


Possessed

by Hecallsmehischild



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Gen, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecallsmehischild/pseuds/Hecallsmehischild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Dib branded as Irken property and Zim locked deep inside Membrane labs, two wills grapple with the loss of their freedom and question their ability to endure when they don't even possess their own names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Property

All was quiet aboard the Massive. A guard or two patrolled the halls, but it was the rest period, and two thirds of the Irkens on board had put themselves into rest mode. The other third looked forward to their turn with longing as they roamed the decks and ports. Their bootsteps echoed off the walls, reminding them just how unnecessary their rounds were. Nothing ever went wrong during rest hour.

Well, not for the most part.

A shout rang down the hall, the sound chasing a short, peach-colored creature with a patch of black fur on the top of its head. It pelted forward, its hands stretched forward and its eyes squinted almost shut. It wore a pair of black leggings, such as several Irkens had, but this thing was most certainly not Irken.

At least three guards followed it, gaining slowly. One had drawn a stun pistol and fired it several times, but the creature dodged, as if used to evading such blasts. Frustrated, one guard dropped behind and pulled a communication device from his PAK.

"Unit 4-G6, an alien has escaped and is coming your way. Intercept at point 7X4T."

The alien seemed to have a destination as it led the chase in the general direction of the escape pods. Its breath came in short, jerky gasps, but it pushed itself on, oblivious to anything but what lay ahead. Perhaps its blind determination kept it from seeing the PAK leg stretched across its path.

It tumbled to the ground, rolling several times. It sprang up, but the fall had cost it. The guards in pursuit had caught up, and all aimed shock pistols at the offending being. At this close range, there would be no missed shots. The creature's shoulders slumped, and its head drooped as it stood still.

"Oh no you don't," snarled one guard, pulling the trigger. A savage grin pulled at his mouth as the alien stiffened, jerked, then collapsed to the floor, writhing. "You think you can just surrender and that's the end of it? Escape attempts have consequences."

The other two guards closed in, along with the one that had tripped it. Blows fell on the alien's unprotected body, some from fists, some from PAK wires, some from boots. The creature curled into a ball, attempting to protect its softer front. It bit its lip and squeezed its eyes shut as the blows came harder.

"Who do you think you are, hyuman?" One guard laughed, aiming a kick at its ribs. "Do you think you own this ship? That you can go anywhere anytime?" Raising a hand, he shot a look at his fellows. They drew back, and the guard knelt by the human. Grabbing its chin, he jerked it up. Weary eyes opened, staring back at the guard. Odd eyes, mostly white with brown and black circles.

The guard pulled back his lips in a sneer, revealing his zipper-like teeth. "Do you think you are  _free_? Idiot." Reaching his hand around, he pressed a claw against the human's shoulder. It arched its back, hissing loudly, fists clenching.

"You are the property of Irk. The Almighty Tallests' grace is the only reason you are still alive." He pressed harder on the brand he himself had placed on the prisoner minutes after its arrival. A strangled cry issued from its throat, and the guard grinned in satisfaction. He traced the Irken symbol, familiar as his own name, burned onto this foreign skin.

"My name," the human bit out, "is Dib. And I'm nobody's property."

"Is that right?" The guard smirked. "We'll see what the Tallests have to say about that after rest period. In the meantime," he nodded to the others, "Make sure it gets back to its quarters in one piece." His eyes glinted. "And if it escapes again, it'll be demotions for all of us, so keep it locked up!"

* * *

Steps echoed down the hall, growing louder and more commanding every second. Professor Membrane marched past flustered receptionists and scurrying interns, not sparing a glance to anyone. Pausing to press his hand against a palm-locked door, he tapped his foot impatiently. Even the loss of a few seconds was an irritation, especially when such an exciting discovery had been made.

The door slid open with a sigh, and the Professor entered, his boots clicking faster as he hurried toward wing 5. He pulled aside his goggles for the eyescan that would open the correct door, and stepped inside.

A short brunette in a white labcoat glanced up from a monitor, relieved. "Professor, you're here, thank heavens. You have to do something, it hasn't stopped yelling for 24 hours. It's wearing on everybody's nerves. The soundproof room has no effect on its vocal amplification somehow."

Rubbing his hands in excitement, the Professor murmured, "Fascinating, it emits soundwaves that pierce right through the insulation. Mark that down as one of the things to be studied about it." Pausing, he glanced at the monitor. A small green figure faced directly toward the camera, mouth wide open and arms gesticulating. It spoke in perfect English—perhaps shouted in perfect English was more accurate—and its orb-like red eyes glared ferociously. At the moment, it was demanding its release and the release of the small robot they'd also taken into custody.

Membrane gave a short laugh. "What a silly creature, to think we'd release it now. There's so much we can learn from it! The possibilities are endless. You," he pointed at the brunette, "Mark this creature down in the logbooks as Subject A1, property of Membrane Inc." He winced as the creature's tone took a sharp climb for a few seconds before dropping. "And distribute aspirin to all the staff, on me. We'll have to work with this from now on, and can't have my staff sick with headaches."


	2. Threats

"And that, Earth-smell, is why you will grovel this instant at the feet of Zim and beg for your filthy life before returning my robot minion to me and making me ruler of the planet!"

Zim was in a foul mood. Not only had he been captured by the enemy because of Dib's stupid pig-headed nose sticking into his business and GIR's incompetence as a defender, but he was trapped in a smelly lab with dozens of white-coated hyumans who seemed to have just enough technology to render his PAK weaponry useless. He'd realized they weren't falling for the "I-am-a-perfectly-normal-hyuman-worm-baby" bit and begun shouting for his release. In response, they'd locked him in an observation room for a whole day, where he'd yelled himself hoarse. And finally, to add insult to injury, the Dib-stink's parental unit stood in the same room as Zim, gawking at him like he was some kind of freak, and taking notes on that horrid little pad of his.

Zim had just finished a lengthy explanation as to why the Professor should hand the rulership of the planet over to him in what was a very reasonable argument, and now he leaned against the wall, awaiting the groveling pleas for mercy.

What he got was stunned silence.

As the minutes ticked by, Zim became impatient. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He growled. "Grovel, filth!"

The Professor's eyebrow arched in what Zim could only guess was amusement. "Little alien, you don't seem to understand. You're not ruling anything. You're not even free right now. You're under 24-hour observation, and we'll begin testing soon."

Zim's antennae stiffened.

Soon your Zim guts will be strewn all over an autopsy table.

From there it's just a short trip to the hospital, then to an alien autopsy table, and then you're just another segment on Mysterious Mysteries.

They might even name your autopsy video after me!

"YOU WILL NOT GET MY ORGANS YOU BARBARIC PIECE OF SLIME!" Zim crouched, his hands hooked into claws and his teeth bared. The Professor took a step back, slightly alarmed.

"Who said anything about your organs, little alien? I said testing. The scientific principles that could be unlocked through studying your voice alone could expand the realms of human knowledge tenfold! Think of the implications for acoustical science, even for the deaf!" He stepped forward again, his goggles reflecting Zim's frightened aggression. "We may move on to other tests, but we may not need to, not if you cooperate. And even then, we aren't so barbaric as you'd like to think. We have anesthetics, painkillers. You won't feel pain during our tests."

Zim tilted his head back and screamed, "I AM ZIM, YOU FOOL, ZIM! IRKEN INVADER ZIM! I AM NOT SOME TEST SUBJECT, I AM YOUR RIGHTFUL SLAVE MASTER! RELEASE ME NOW BEFORE MY PATIENCE IS COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED!"

The Professor stumbled back, clutching his head. He turned and knocked frantically on the door. Zim blinked, surprised to see a streak of red running down the side of the Professor's head. He'd seen hyuman blood before, usually when he fought with Dib, but he was surprised that he'd drawn this man's blood without touching him.

The Professor disappeared through the door. Zim rushed at it, but found it locked. Frustrated, he aimed a kick at the door, and only succeeded in bruising his superior foot. Grumbling, he returned to the center of the white padded room and sat, glaring at the black square of glass he knew was a window into his cell. Silence gathered around him.

An irrational fear for GIR flickered through him. They'd taken him separately, before they'd caught Zim. They might take some care with Zim since he was a living being, but GIR they would see as just a machine to be taken apart and examined.

Bolting to his feet he shouted at the black pane, "GIR had better be in one piece, you hear me, filthies? If one bolt is out of place, I'll make your heads explode with my superior voice. EXPLODE! And don't forget it!"

His PAK flashed. His eyes widened a little. He was receiving a transmission! From the Massive no less! He couldn't believe his fortune, the Tallests had found him and were going to tell him about their rescue plan! Eagerly he extended his communicator and unfolded the screen. He grunted impatiently as the loading bar filled up, then vanished.

In its place appeared an all-too-familiar face. Not his Tallests, not by a long shot. His eyes narrowed angrily and he hissed in outrage.

"Dib!"


	3. Fixed

Dib stared at the force field for the hundredth time, trying to figure out another way of escape. His cell consisted of a six by six foot square of floor with a solid purple wall to his left and a solid red wall to his right. The front of the cell was a clearish-green force field with enough power to hurl him back against the back wall—a solid black slab of some sort of material he hadn't been able to classify. The red and purple walls seemed to be of the same material, but there was some difference he hadn't been able to put his finger on.

Slumping against the purple wall, he stared resentfully at the force field. Two guards now stood outside, a constant reminder of his failed escape attempt. Occasionally, one or the other would turn and peer at him, curiosity lighting their oddly colored eyes. Dib just glared at them until they turned away.

He shifted a little, then winced as his shoulder made contact with the cold surface. He yanked away with a yelp. Gingerly he probed the swollen, puffy flesh. Bile rose in his throat as he remembered his first moments aboard the ship, being shoved to his knees and inspected—prodded for heaven's sake, like an animal! Then something burning had pressed against his shoulder. He knew the moment he smelled his own charred flesh that he had just been branded, that he was considered property to these creatures.

Angrily, he swiped at his eyes. He would not show weakness to these monsters. He could stomach humiliation, he'd done it every day of his life at Skool. He grimaced, passing his hand in front of his face a few times. It was getting harder to focus on things. The advanced glasses the Professor had designed for him had stopped the degeneration, but only as long as he wore them all the time. It had been difficult learning to sleep and shower with them on, but it had been worth it to be able to see. But they had been one of the first things the Irkens had confiscated, along with his trench coat and shirt, and now, a day later, his eyes were beginning to fail already. His hand was little more than a blur with points on it.

"Almighty Tallest Purple." One of the guards murmured, his boots clicking together. Dib folded his arms across his chest and scowled at the ground. He didn't want to look up and see the purple blur passing by. His first face to face with the Tallests had come seconds after he'd teleported into some sort of meeting room on the ship. He'd landed in the middle of the table and lifted his head, gawking. Two sets of eyes—red and purple—stared back at him. The purple Irken had shrieked and called for the guards, while the red one had drawn a laser and pointed it at him, ordering him to freeze. Confused and bewildered, he hadn't even considered doing anything else.

The steady drone of the force field stopped. For a moment, all Dib could hear was silence. His head jerked up and he stared as a tall, thin purple and green blur entered his cell. All he could think was that the force field was down. With a cry, he threw himself in that direction. The buzz resumed a split second before he reached the entry, and a jolt of electricity flooded his system. His muscles spasmed as he flew backward, cracking into the black surface with enough force to make him see stars.

The blur stood over him. "Wow. I didn't think you'd be that stupid. Or that desperate, yet. Didn't you know they'd shut it behind me?" It knelt, bringing the face into slightly clearer focus. Dib squinted to make out the features. The eyes narrowed a little, and two thin green lines passed in front of his face a few times.

"Earthling. Can you see me? How many claws am I holding up?"

"Two," Dib scowled, "And I can see you just fine."

"Then why are you squinting?"

"You took my glasses."

"The eye-aids you wore? Those helped you see?" The face brightened some. "Your eyes are inferior, then. Do all Earthlings wear eye-aids?"

Dib glared at the blur and refused to answer. It sighed. "If you're stubborn things will be harder. Well, for now, guards, take him to the med-bay. If he's not in perfect condition, he won't be of any use to me."

…..

Dib tried not to panic. Panic would get him nowhere. But he was sorely tempted to give in. He'd been dragged kicking and screaming down to the med-bay where he'd been strapped down to a metal table. Images of all the dissection drawings he'd made of Zim flashed through his mind, and he regretted each and every one of them.

But that couldn't be. That one… Tallest Purple? He'd said he needed Dib in perfect condition. If he was all cut up he wouldn't be in perfect condition.

Then again, maybe these aliens had a different idea of what "perfect condition" was.

Whatever their intentions, Dib lost his nerve when machinery from the ceiling began to lower toward him, and he began screaming. When it stopped an inch from his face, his screams rose an octave. And when needles and tiny lasers extended toward his eyes, he began thrashing. The machinery paused, and a tiny pin pricked his neck. He gasped, jerking away from it, but he could already feel a deadening effect spreading through his body. His limbs felt like lead weights and his voice petered out to a whimper.

He saw the needle hovering in front of his eye for a split second before—

….

He blinked, struggling to sit up. His body responded sluggishly, still fighting off the sedative he'd been given. He'd been returned to his cell, but what had happened?

With a shudder, he realized he must have passed out after they'd started work on his eyes.

His eyes…

He stared at the floor of the cell, a smooth, shiny surface made up of tiny specks of red and purple. Snapping his head up, he took in the guards at the door. Each was dressed in the standard Irken uniform, and each shouldered a weapon of some sort. One had pale blue eyes, the other a light pink.

He blinked again. He could see. He could see all of it! Without his glasses! They had fixed his eyes! Their technology had somehow counteracted the degenerative disease!

For a moment, he wanted to shout "Thank you!" at the top of his lungs. Perhaps they weren't the monsters he thought they were, maybe they just wanted to help, maybe—

The brand on his shoulder throbbed. No, he was just a specimen to them. One that needed to be fixed up before testing. Sullen, he slouched against the wall.

It was only then that he saw, in the corner of the room, a small device. It took him half a second to dive across the room and scoop it up into his hands, and another two seconds to register that it was an Irken communication device. He'd spied on Zim enough to recognize a few key pieces of equipment, and this was definitely some sort of communicator.

Eagerly, he activated it and began pushing buttons. His elation deflated as he realized everything was written in the Irken language. Nothing looked familiar. He could only guess that he was looking through a list of other communication devices and the names of their owners, but how could he know who to communicate with? And for that matter, why would he want to communicate with any Irken—

His heart skipped a beat as his eyes latched onto familiar lettering. Earth lettering. English, to be exact. This Irken was on Earth… but that could only mean…

Dib groaned, grabbing a fistful of his hair. Zim? Zim was the only one he could communicate with? How was he ever going to convince his worst enemy to get him out of the very situation he'd threatened for so long? Maybe he could trick Zim into letting him communicate with his father.

It didn't matter. Dib had a connection with Earth, and he had to use it. Turning so that his back faced the force field, he hunched over the device, took a deep breath, and punched the connection.

Minutes passed as the interstellar connection was made. Dib waited, biting his lip, until a face filled the screen, followed by an all too familiar voice.

"Dib."

"Zim."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I should also clarify, there will be no RAPR or any pairings consisting of Dib and the Tallests. Purple has a scientific interest in Dib, THAT IS ALL.


	4. Dialogue

"Dib."

"Zim."

Zim glanced up at the black pane of glass on the wall where he was most certainly being watched. He turned and crouched, shielding the viewscreen from whatever observers he might have, and lowered his voice.

"What are you doing communicating from the Massive?"

"I was beamed here, you idiot."

"Beamed, what do you mean beamed?"

"I mean your stupid teleporter!"

Zim blinked. "Zim never teleported you to…" His eyes widened. "You FOOL, you broke into my base didn't you?" A crooked grin spread across his face. "You broke into my base, found something shiny, and pushed a button, DIDN'T YOU? HAH! And now you're on the Massive. Tell me, did they find you and make you a slave yet?" He laughed triumphantly. "They did, didn't they?"

His laugh faltered. Dib wasn't spouting any comebacks. In fact, it appeared that liquids were filling his eyes…

Zim grabbed the screen. "Holy flirk, Dib, what happened to your glasses?"

"They fixed my eyes," Dib mumbled, "So I would be ready for tests."

The alien frowned. "So if they fixed them, why are they leaking?"

Dib wiped his eyes hard and glared at the screen. "Look, Zim, you have to get me out of here."

"What are you talking about, Earth-smell? Zim doesn't have to do anything. In fact, I laugh at your situation."

Dib shoved his face into the viewer. "Look lizard-brain, if there was anyone else on this stupid thing I could call, I would. But I can't. I won't even ask you to come get me. Just hand the communicator to my Dad. You can do that, getting near the Professor shouldn't be too hard, you've done it before. He won't even suspect you're an alien."

At that, Zim did laugh. Bitterly. "You think you're so smart, don't you? You think you know just how he'll react? You idiot!" He snarled, leaning in. "He always knew! He knew from the first time he saw me through the viewscreen at the Parent-Teacher Night. He's just been waiting for the right time to catch me and make me a test subject."

"What are you talking about? My Dad always calls me insane when I say you're an alien."

Zim sneered. "It was all an act, Dib. He has me in a laboratory right now. I don't know why your precious parental unit played stupid for you, but he did, and now he has me. Something YOU always FAILED at."

Dib stared at the screen for a minute, then muttered, "You're stupid, you know that Zim? It doesn't matter who caught you, you've been caught. You're no longer a threat to Earth." He gave a small smile. "Which means, I won."

Infuriated, Zim hissed, "How can you say you won, when you probably have an Irken brand on your back at this very moment!"

Dib flinched, and brought a hand up to his shoulder. Zim grinned triumphantly. "See, I knew it."

"Look, Zim, just hand me over to my Dad, maybe he'll go easy on you if you let him know where I am."

"Forget it, Dib, you can rot on the Massive. I hope they turn you inside out for the fun of it."

"I hope they pull your guts out and show you!" Dib shouted.

"Saw off your legs!"

"Fill you full of water!"

"Stinky!"

"Ugly!"

"I hope you die!" They screamed at each other.

Dib was the first to cut the line of communication. Zim thrust his fist in the air and yelled, "Victory for Zim!" He grinned, but the grin faded quickly. What victory? He was alone again with the scientists. Not even them, because they were behind their infernal glass wall. At least Dib had been someone to talk to. He didn't even have GIR.

He shook that thought off. "Who needs them? I am an Invader, and I need no one. I am perfectly fine, and I will get out of here myself. With no one's help." He glared at the black glass. "You hear me, fools? I will escape, and when I do I will wreak such havoc on you, you will rue the day you EVER messed with Zim!"


	5. Dissect

Zim blinked, staring in confusion at the ceiling. A moment ago he'd been screaming at the camera in the corner of his cell. Why was he lying on the floor? He tried to push himself up, but came up against restraints. He could feel them holding down his legs, his arms and chest, and his head. He shifted his eyes to the left and the right, and realized with a jolt that he'd been restrained to a table. He was not, in fact, even in his cell anymore, but in a completely different room. One with a tray of sharp instruments lying rather close to the table.

"Ah, awake?"

Zim's eyes darted around, but the voice came from above him, where he couldn't see. But he recognized the Professor's voice.

"Fool! I told you, resistance is futile, release Zim! Release me before I blow your ears apart."

Membrane chuckled. "That was a bit of an obstacle, little alien. It took me a whole day to develop a material strong enough to block out all sound you make."

Zim frowned. "Wait, if you can't hear what I'm saying, then how are you responding?"

"I have a computer transcribing what you say and directing it to the screen in my goggles."

"Oh." He glanced down at himself, and swallowed. If he couldn't inflict damage on the Professor with his voice, then he had no leverage, and no protection.

"So, little alien, it is pointless for me to ask you why you're on Earth since you've made it very clear that you wish to conquer us. I suppose a better question would be, why haven't you done so in the time you've been here?"

Zim scowled at the ceiling. "Your stupid pig-smelly smeet gets in the way."

"Dib? Really. You mean to tell me that an alien race as advanced as yours can be thwarted by a child?"

Zim hissed, "I have not been thwarted yet! I WILL conquer this spinning ball of dirt and present its smoking ruin to my Tallests if it is the last thing I do! And once I'm free, Dib can't stop me. He's…" Zim clamped his mouth shut.

Membrane frowned. "He's what?"

Zim smirked. "Nothing. He's nothing. He's no threat."

A clinking drew Zim's eyes over to the tool tray. A black-gloved hand was sorting through the instruments. Zim squawked, "You said your race was not so barbaric as to do that sort of thing!"

Membrane stepped into view, his goggles reflecting Zim's frantic expression. "Well, little alien—"

"And stop calling me 'little alien'! My name is ZIM!"

Amused, Membrane selected a laser-cutter. "Technically, you have been designated 'A1', the first alien to be taken as property of Membrane Inc."

"Property?" Zim bellowed. "Zim is not property! Zim is an Irken Elite soldier, and your future slave master! If anyone here is property, it is you!"

"And this is why we've had to resort to these measures." The Professor sighed. "I warned you if you weren't cooperative, we'd have to take more drastic steps, which is why we had to sedate and restrain you. If nothing else you are, in terms you would better understand, a prisoner of war. And we have the right to extract information from you in whatever way we deem necessary." He lifted the laser cutter and plucked at Zim's tunic, slicing down the front to reveal Zim's chest and torso. "And if we happen to advance our scientific knowledge along the way, all the better." He leaned over, peering intently at Zim's body. A thick, ropy network of scar tissue crisscrossed his stomach and chest. "These scars, what are they from?"

"None of your business, Earth-smell." Zim seethed.

Membrane shrugged. "Very well." He lowered the tool till it rested at Zim's chest. The heat singed the Irken's skin, and his eyes widened.

"You wouldn't, this is a bluff." Zim's voice shook a little. The heat increased as the cutter sank into his skin. "Stop!" He shrieked. "Training! The scars are from training to be an Elite!"

The heat receded some. "An Elite soldier, so you said. At what age?"

"As soon as we are hatched and given PAKS, a third of the smeets are sent to Invader training." Zim puffed out his chest. "Only a few survive."

Disgusted, Membrane muttered, "And you think humans are barbaric. You train children for conquest."

"Do not judge me, puny human. I have seen many of your Earth cultures do the same."

"We weren't discussing Earth, we were discussing your planet. Irk, I believe?" Membrane leaned into Zim's view. "Where is it?"

"Ha." Zim grinned. "If you think I would tell you anything about the location of my home planet or the Massive, you're stupider than I gave you credit for."

Scarcely had the words left his mouth than the laser came down, parting his tough, scarred hide like soft butter. Zim's eyes grew round and his mouth made an "o". Searing pain flashed through his system for a few brief seconds before nanobots began flooding his body with massive painkillers. He knew it wouldn't last, though. The pain would be dulled for ten minutes at most before the effects wore off.

The Professor clamped back Zim's skin and peered into the opening. Selecting another tool, he slipped it under Zim's organ and lifted it out of the opening. Zim's claws dug into the table at the feeling of his squeedly spooch slithering out of his belly. I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not give this pathetic piece of scum the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

"Fascinating. This seems to be your primary organ, besides what seems to function as a heart. What is it called?"

Zim gritted his teeth, glaring hatefully at the Professor.

Membrane sighed. "Still stubborn. Well that's to be expected. I suppose questions can wait for when you're more talkative. In the meantime…" He prodded around a little more, stopping every now and then to direct a little video camera strung from the ceiling.

The Irken could feel the numbness slipping away as the pain began rolling over him. Every breath he took pulled at the slit exposing his organ, prompting muscle spasms that pulled it even further apart. His PAK sparked with the strain of attempting to repair a wound clamped open. Eventually, though, the Professor decided he had enough data. Picking up a second laser tool, he unclamped the skin and pulled the sides together. Activating the laser, he proceeded to cauterize the wound, sealing it shut. Zim bit his lip to keep silent, blood running from his mouth.

"I suppose that's enough for now. We'll talk more when you've recovered, little alien."

"My… name…" Zim panted, releasing his lip, "Is… Zim… you fool."

The Professor smiled condescendingly. "Whatever you say, subject A1."


	6. Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Invader Sideos for letting me borrow Dr. Feto. Forgive me if I don't get her completely correct.

Dib raised the communicator over his head and stared hard at the wall. He saw his reflection, tinted darkly against the black surface, glaring back at him. He hesitated. Smashing this thing would give him satisfaction for a moment, but it could be his only way out. He lowered it, and gently placed it in the corner of his cell.

His head dipped, and he yawned widely. Something hummed behind him, and he rolled away instinctively. Glancing back, he saw the wall open up and unfold a sort of pallet, with a pillow and a blanket. He relaxed. So, no testing today. Just sleeping for now. Sighing, he slipped under the blanket and curled up. He would need his rest, he reasoned, to deal with whatever they were going to put him through the next day. He shuddered, grisly images dancing through his head. He shook his head firmly and clenched his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep.

….

Purple stroked his chin, staring at the sleeping subject through the one way viewing station installed behind the deceptive surface of the black wall in its cell. He'd been curious to see if the human had learned any of the Irken lettering in his reconnaissance on Zim, so he'd left a communicator in its cell. He hadn't expected the human to use the device to actually contact Zim, much less ask him for help. Every report Zim had given indicated that the two were the worst of enemies.

It didn't matter much. From what he could gather of their conversation, Zim was safely captured and billions of lightyears from their location. He was no threat, but this human held Purple's interest. He turned to his right and selected a panel to work with. It was time to begin.

…

The back of his neck hurt like needles had been stabbing there for hours. Dib groaned and rolled onto his back, hoping the coolness of the pillow against his neck would calm the pain. Blearily he opened his eyes. Raising one fist to his eye he rubbed it, coaxing the gritty bits from the corners of his eye.

Except there wasn't a corner to his eye. He frowned, feeling his eye. It felt strange, roundish even. Of course eyes were supposed to be round, but he couldn't find the two corners to his eye. He checked his other eye. No corners.

His eyes focused on his fingers, and he screamed. Bolting upright, he stared down at his outstretched hands in horror. Three green claws extended from bright green palms attached to skinny green wrists and arms. He reached up and felt the top of his head. Gone was the scythe-like swoosh of hair. Instead, two black antennae sprouted from his barren skull. Shrieking, he grabbed one and pulled. "What's happening? What have you done to me?"

The force field lifted, and an Irken stepped in. Her pinkish orbs were framed by a smiling green face. Her antennae curled back from her head in graceful arcs. She marched in briskly, her white labcoat flowing behind her.

She glanced up from a clipboard, and her eyes wandered over him. "So, Bid, how are we today?"

Dib lunged at her. "What have you done to me, you monsters? I'm an alien!"

She merely raised a small device and shook it. Tendrils of electricity shot through Dib's neck and down through the rest of his body. He gasped, collapsing in a heap, his muscles all spasming in protest.

"I didn't want to do that," she sighed, "But when any patient acts with violence we have to activate the collar."

Reaching up, Dib touched his neck. A wire completely circled his neck.

The Irken tilted her head to the side. "So. As I was asking, how are you today?"

"How… how am I? I'm Irken!" Dib wailed. "What have you done?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "You're… you're Irken today?"

"Yes! Yes, are you blind? Can't you see? What happened?"

A wide smile spread across her face. "Bid… this is wonderful, you're making progress!"

"Progress?" Dib's claws curled in frustration. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She laughed. "Well for the past decade and a half you've been ranting on and on about how you're some alien type called a Human, and that your name was Dib. You'd have these elaborate dreams about how you were saving the planet from being conquered by us, then you'd wake up convinced that was real."

"But it is! It was! I… you changed me!"

Her smile faltered. "Ah, so you haven't completely recovered yet." She made a note on her clipboard. "Still paranoid." She looked up again. "Do you remember my name?"

"I've never seen you before!"

"Hm. Well, I suppose in this case regression to the time before we met is good, since you were perfectly healthy before you came to Skitzatos."

"Ski…"

"It's a mental health facility for troubled Irkens such as yourself. I am Dr. Feto."

"I'm not Irken!"

"But you just admitted you are."

"I am! Now I am! But I wasn't, I was human… I was!"

Dr. Feto watched him, a trace of sadness in her eyes. "You're still confused. That's to be expected. Irk knows it took you long enough to even admit you were actually Irken." Standing, she dropped her clipboard to her side. "It'll be alright, Bid. I think you still need to adjust to this realization. I need to make my rounds, but I'll be back in a few hours. Then we can talk some more about this." A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "I'm really excited about this breakthrough, Bid. This is huge for you."

…..

Dib bolted upright, chest heaving. His neck still burned, but as he raised his hands to his face, he noted with relief the peach-colored skin and five digits. Flopping back on his pallet, he tried to calm his breathing.

"Weird dream," he muttered, flexing his fingers. "Really weird, but not unexpected. Surrounded by these monsters, I probably would dream something like that. Makes sense." He rolled over to face the wall. Nobody had turned the lights on yet, so it must still be "rest period". Fighting the adrenaline still shooting through his veins, he closed his eyes. He would sleep. He would be ready for whatever they threw at him the next day. And somehow, he would find a way to get himself home.


	7. Plea

The boy bolted upright, eyes wide. The first thing he did was raise his hands and look at them, front and back. The second thing he did was run his hands through his hair—yes, his hair was there. He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to whimper. He was dreaming again. He had to be. She kept telling him about this—

No, he would not think about it. If he thought too much about it, his mind wouldn't recover. Besides, something was… beeping? Something in his bed was beeping. Peering under the covers, he saw the communicator. Someone was calling him! Diving under the covers, he flipped it on, hoping somehow his father had managed to figure out a way to contact him. No, wait… he pushed that thought aside. That would hinder his recovery.

What he saw was a haggard green face, with sunken eyes and constantly twitching antennae. Shock jolted him. "What happened to you?"

"I don't have a lot of time." Zim's voice was thin and worn. There was a rasp to it, as if he'd been screaming for days on end. "I disabled their filthy cameras, but they'll realize it in a few minutes. Dib… I…" His eyes narrowed a little and his mouth wriggled in an odd way. "I… need…."

The child frowned. "I thought you said you didn't have a lot of time, spit it out."

"…help."

"You? Help? Need?"

"Yes!" Zim snapped. "Was my monumental effort to speak not clear enough for your tiny mind?" His voice cracked and faded mid-sentence, leaving him shouting a whisper.

"I repeat, what happened to you?"

"Your dearest wish," the alien snarled. The camera pulled back to reveal Zim. His shirt had been stripped away, and sutures ran up and down his torso. Two crisscrossing suture lines tracked across his head. A wave of nausea rolled over the boy. He'd envisioned it often enough, and he'd dissected frogs in preparation for Zim, but…

"You seem surprised, Earth monkey." Zim spat. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

The boy's mouth opened, releasing a word before he could catch it. "No."

Zim stared at the viewscreen in confusion. "No, what do you mean, no? It's all you ever talked about."

Guilt tugged at his gut. He turned his head slightly. "What did you call me for? What help?"

A look of desperation entered Zim's face. "You need to tell your parental unit to stop. I can't…" He looked down. "My body can't take much more damage." His eye twitched.

"That's bull. You're a trained invader. Your body can probably take tons of damage."

"How would you know?"

Evading the question, he asked again "Why are you really-"

"Dib-beast!" The alien's eyes were suddenly fixed with uncomfortable intensity on the screen. "My mind can't take much more damage!"

For this, the boy had no reply.

"What is my name?"

He blinked. "What kind of stupid question is—"

"WHAT IS MY NAME?"

"Your name is Zim, as if anyone needs reminding."

The alien relaxed slightly, and his expression softened. "They never use my name. They only call me Subject A1. I'm…" He faltered. "Sometimes I wake up and forget my name." He touched the sutures on his head, then drew his hand back as if catching himself indulging in a bad habit. "You have to talk to him… I'm barely allowed any rest, minimal amounts of food, and every hour is a new test, a new procedure, a new… surgery." He shuddered.

The boy gave a heavy sigh. This part wasn't going to be easy, but she had told him it was an important step. "Zim… I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do for you."

"What do you mean? You could talk to your parental unit and make him stop!"

"No, I can't," he said flatly, "Because Irkens don't have parental units."

Pausing, Zim's eyes narrowed. "I know that, imbecile, but you're human, and you definitely have a parental unit who is currently enjoying POKING MY INSIDES, DIB!" His voice cracked again.

"My name isn't Dib." He shifted. "It's Bid."

"Bid?" Zim growled, "What are you talking about, your name has always been Dib, stupid!"

"No," he corrected. "It's Bid. And this is a dream."

"A… dream." Zim blinked. "This is a dream."

"Yes. A dream." Bid nodded. "And I have to tell you this so I can start to get better, that's what Doctor Feto said."

Zim's eyes narrowed again. "Doctor Feto is…?"

"My Doctor." He felt a sting at the back of his neck, the one that signaled he was about to wake up. He hurried, "I'll tell you the rest next time I dream, Zim. But this is for the best. I'm getting better. Soon, I'll stop dreaming that I'm human."

His eyelids drooped, and a heavy sensation filled his limbs. He dropped the communicator and tumbled backward, barely hearing Zim's squawking.

"But Dib, you ARE human! Do you hear me? You are a disgusting filthy worm baby human! DIIIIIIIIB!"


	8. Submission

Zim shook the communicator as Dib fell back out of view, shouting hoarsely at it. The door opened behind him, and he quickly retracted his communicator, whirling around.

The Professor entered the room, his labcoat swishing around his sides. He glanced up at the mangled camera boxes, then back to Zim. "Your handiwork, A-1?" With only a growl as his reply, the Professor motioned behind him. Three other scientists entered. Zim's growl deepened. The first few days it had taken six of them to subdue and restrain him, but with his decreasing energy, only a few were needed.

"Now A-1, will we be doing this the hard way, or the easy way this time?" The Professor's expression was unreadable behind his collar, but Zim felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't just about getting him restrained. This was about breaking his spirit. The day he moved toward that restraining chair of his own free will would be the day he would fully cease to be Zim.

"Go play in a black hole," Zim rasped. The Professor had removed his noise-blocking device, Zim noted with little surprise. His voice had given out two days before, after two straight weeks of screaming, it was no threat anymore.

"Have it your way," the Professor sighed. The three scientists advanced on Zim, tasers in hand. Zim turned to scrabble behind some equipment, but the moment he turned a taser burrowed into his shoulder, sending shockwaves of electricity through his body. His muscles spasmed as he fell to the ground. He felt hands gripping his arms tightly, yanking him up and shoving him into the chair they'd designed for him one week into their experiments. It accommodated his PAK with a small indentation and restrained every part of his body with straps so he couldn't move.

A horrible helpless rage had fueled his desperate writhings in the first few days, but the rage had burned away with his energy, leaving him with just helplessness. As he felt one of the aides swabbing rubbing alcohol across his head, helplessness gave way to desperation. "No! Not my brain, no more from my brain!" His chest constricted. "Please, my spooch, my leg, some other place!"

"Why?" Membrane selected a small bone saw and scalpel. "Why should we?"

Zim couldn't stand it. If he lowered himself, debased his honor and groveled for this human, he might be spared, but could he live with himself? But if he didn't, how much longer could he survive? The main goal, he reasoned, was survival. He could restore his honor, he couldn't bring himself back to life, and he certainly couldn't piece his mind back together if it was ripped apart.

"I can't… I'm losing myself…." He groaned. "My memories are harder to access… my strategies are falling apart… I can't remember the codes to unlock my base anymore. I know I had a minion, but I don't know what it was or what its name was… I'm losing Zim. Please… cut somewhere else, if you must cut."

Membrane's goggles flashed. "Interesting. And you turned to run this time instead of attacking us. Exactly why we must continue."

Zim's body tightened. "What?"

"You see, A-1, the experiment is to locate the portions of your brain that control your aggression, and terminate them. Then, perhaps, you will be more willing to submit to lighter tests and answer our questions."

Cold terror gripped Zim's spooch. They wanted to change what made Zim Zim. That couldn't be allowed! With a screech he strained his body against the straps, eyes wide and darting, but the straps held.

Frantically Zim shouted, "Professor hyuman where is your offspring?"

Pausing, Membrane raised a brow. "At home, of course, where he's always been. Or Skool."

"No, no he's not! He's not on Earth, he invaded my base and got teleported by accident to Irk! You can't get him back without me!"

"Is that who you've been talking to? Dib?" He waved his hand dismissively. "Gaz would have informed me if anything was amiss. Dib is probably eating his dinner of beans as we speak." He vanished behind Zim's head, out of sight, but Zim could feel the cold metal of the scalpel slicing through the still-tender skin of his head, and could hear the bone saw whir to life.

"I SWEAR! I SWEAR TO IRK AND MY TALLESTS YOUR SMEET IS ON IRK, YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME! YOU CAN'T GET TO HIM WITHOUT ME, AND I NEED ALL MY WITS, PLEASE—AUUUUGH!" And the pain began again. Holes already existed in his skull from previous surgeries, but each time the Professor opened another one, searching for the portion that would keep Zim completely submissive.

Zim's eyes watered with the pain. Green liquid trickled down between his eyes, and a hand set a piece of skull down in his line of vision. If he had his full vocal capacities, he would have screamed until the Proessor died. Even that was a carefully calculated move to destabilize him. But that was nothing compared to the feeling of the gloves reaching into his head. Zim had thrown up the first time, fouling his already torn and crusted uniform. The second time, he had managed to keep from vomiting, barely.

But now, now he knew what the Professor was after. He would change Zim completely, discard the part of Zim that he didn't need. The part that was an obstacle. He might keep it in a jar somewhere and display it like a trophy. The thought made Zim's eyes burn. He opened his mouth and screamed, but all that came out was a faint rasp.

Time passed. He didn't know how long, he didn't know what he was waiting for. He knew there was something important he was forgetting, something he needed to know, but it was too much effort to think about it. He would stare for long hours at the blank expanse of the wall, fascinated by it. Then the door would swing open, and the man came in. What was the man's name? He didn't know. The man pointed at a chair at the end of the room, and called him A-1. Was that the important thing he needed to know? He was A-1, and this man remembered. He was happy the man remembered the important thing when he couldn't. He turned toward the chair, wincing. His head hurt, throbbing. Maybe the chair would make it go away. Laboriously, he climbed up into it, and smiled at the man, his smile reflected in those blank, shining goggles.

I am A-1.


	9. Identity

"So, Bid, how are you today?"

"I'm doing well, Doctor Feto." He raised a hand, compulsively running it over his head, assuring himself that he sprouted normal antennae, and not the bizarre patch of fur he'd been convinced he had for the last decade.

"Still checking, I see." She observed, making a note on her pad. "That's to be expected, but try to break yourself of that habit. You need to trust yourself that you really are Irken."

"Yes Doctor." He murmured, pulling his hands away from his head. "I'm sorry."

"No need, you're making marvelous progress." Feto smiled at him. "I wish all my patients were progressing as fast as you. It took you quite some time, but once you broke through, you really followed through on it."

"I couldn't have done it without you, Doctor." His claws twitched, still needing to feel his head. He clasped his hands together to keep them still. The feel of his six claws touching eased his anxiety somewhat. He had six claws, he reminded himself, not ten fingers. He shuddered. How could he ever have thought he had those four extra, rounded, useless digits?

His neck still hurt. He reached back as if to rub it, then paused. Why would he do that? His neck didn't really hurt, it was just a twitch. Annoyed with himself, he put his arm down again.

"Is your training starting to come back to you, Bid?" Her intense pink eyes regarded him soberly. "Anything from the academy?"

"A little, my memory is still fuzzy," he admitted.

"That's the psychotic break you had. Your dissociation was very complex, and it blocked off a lot of your memories. If you're even recalling a little bit of them, that's good."

"How long until I'm well again, Doctor?" He asked, hopefully.

"I wouldn't be surprised if we could discharge you in a few weeks. But until then, you need to remember, if you keep having those dreams, just explain to the people you see in them who you really are. It will help your mind reconcile itself to that fact."

"Yes Doctor."

"And in a few days, we'll be ready for a significant step."

"What's that, Doctor?"

"Well, I'm going to oversee one of your dreams, and help guide you through it. In that dream, you are going to don a PAK. If you do that in your dreams, it will help you solidify the fact that you are Irken. It will be a symbol."

"I see, Doctor. Can't we do that now?"

"Not yet. I want to observer you for a few more days." She rose to leave. "Well, I will be back later to check on you, Bid. Don't forget the exercises I gave you."

"I won't Doctor."

….

"Don't forget the exercises I gave you." Purple murmured into the microphone. His eyes drifted from the screen displaying the subject's neural activity to the prone form of the creature on its cell bed.

I won't Doctor. The readout translated the neural impulses into words the subject spoke and images it was seeing. The proper electrical interference produced a simulated reality in its mind that was real to all five senses.

Purple smiled and began turning a dial on the control panel in front of him, the one that would slowly bring the subject out from its unconscious state into reality. But the subject would no longer be able to tell which was real.

If the experiment was successful, this human could be the next step in species conquering. Taking one of a species' own kind, confusing their reality, and attaching a PAK to them, solidifying their "Irken Identity". Then, it would be a short step to reintegrating them into their own society as sleeper agents, gathering information and sending it to the Armada for processing. And from there, it would be a small step to easier planet domination.

All this hinged on the success of this experiment. If the subject didn't fully embrace his "Irken Identity" as Bid, the experiment would be deemed a failure, and the subject disposed of. A failed experiment, after all, was a worthless experiment. Purple smirked, wondering if the human experimenting on Zim was finding him to be as much of a failure as the Armada had. He hoped so, so they would finally be rid of him.


	10. Stripped

"Come on Zim. Pick up. You're the only one I get to talk to in this dream." He stared down at the communicator in his peach colored five digit hands. It had been ringing Zim's communicator for about five minutes. It never took the Irken this long to pick up. Maybe his father was experimenting on him.

He shook his head. He had no father, Irkens didn't have parental units, he scolded himself.

Abruptly the screen turned on, but the sight was at a strange angle, facing the wall. A voice that sounded almost like Zim mumbled, "What is this…" And then the view flipped, turning to reveal Zim. The boy gaped.

The Irken's head was completely wrapped in gauze, but green stains leaked through in several places. Only his face was visible, and thick black sutures that peeked out from the edges of the gauze near his eyes. Those eyes were no longer a deep maroon, but a lighter shade of red.

"What…. What happened to you?" The human breathed.

"What is this?" Zim stared at the camera as if he'd never seen the communicator he was holding. "Is this a show-watcher? I like show-watchers."

"No, this is a communicator, don't you remember?"

"Is that what it is?" He even sounded different. The harsh, commanding voice was gone, replaced by a softer, curious tone. "And who are you?"

"I'm…" He faltered. This felt so real. But it was a dream, and had to be treated as such. He straightened. "I'm Bid. A soldier in the Irken army. I had a nervous breakdown ten or eleven years ago, but I'm doing much better now. Part of my rehabilitation is that I need to explain to you that I'm not really human. I'm Irken." He glanced at his hands again. "I know I look human, but that's just because I'm dreaming."

"You're dreaming?" Zim mused. "So I'm a dream?"

"You must be."

"I think I'd like to be a dream. Dreams end, and then there's no more hurting."

The boy frowned. This wasn't like Zim. He'd been so sure that the Irken would be screaming and ranting about how stupid he was being, and of course he was Dib and not Bid. "What's on your head?"

Zim reached up and touched the gauze. "Oh, not supposed to take it off." He smiled, a smile completely devoid of malice or mischief. "Doctor fixed my head. Said I'm sick, has to keep looking to make sure I'm not sick anymore. Nice doctor. He remembers my name."

Snorting, the boy laughed. "Who wouldn't remember your name, you only scream it all the time." Puffing out his chest, he gave a shrill imitation, crying out, "I am Zim!"

Zim's eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth opened. A deep, wrenching scream issued from his throat, and the camera shook as the Irken's body spasmed. Behind him, men dressed in white appeared, seizing Zim by the arms and dragging him to a strange looking chair, stained green all over. A hand fumbled over the communicator, and the screen went black.

He stared at the blank screen, dumbfounded. He knew they'd been experimenting on Zim, but this… since when did saying Zim's name cause him to have a fit?

He shook his head roughly. Zim no longer existed. The defect had died a long time ago. He only existed in the dreams because he had idolized Zim's strategies before the Invader had gone mad. Then he too had gone mad.

Still, wasn't there some way he could alter this dream so that his old hero could have some dignity? It was his dream after all.

Turning the communicator back on, he programmed it to dial Zim's communicator again. Maybe he could get through to his fa—to the man in charge of Zim.

The screen turned on by the second ring, opening to a view of the man he'd believed to be his father. He sighed. This would not be easy.

"Son, hello. I knew you weren't on some alien planet." Professor Membrane chuckled. "Just a ploy by this fellow to throw me off. You're safe and sound at home."

"Yes," he murmured. "I am home, that's for sure."

"So, son, what have you and A-1 been talking about?"

He frowned. "A-1, what's that?"

"That's what we've been calling the little green fellow."

Blinking, he felt something rise up inside of him. "His name is Zim." In the background, he heard another wrenching scream.

Hastily, the Professor whispered, "Don't say that. His name is A-1, it's taken quite a bit to get the subject to accept that. A-1 still reacts violently when hearing its given name."

He couldn't believe his ears. This was beyond stripping his hero of dignity. "You can't do that! What did you do to his head?"

"Now son, don't excite yourself. We just removed the aggression centers of his brain."

He felt his chest constrict. "You… did what?"

"Now he's quite responsive when we run minor tests and ask questions, when he can remember the answers anyway. It's still a better situation than before."

"You… you castrated him!"

The Professor chuckled. "Hardly, son. There isn't even anything there, we checked."

"That's not what I mean! You took away what made him Zim!"

"And that's a bad thing, son? He was bent on trying to destroy the world. Just like you always said. I apologize for not believing you sooner, but all that is behind us. You really should come in to the lab, you'll have full clearance to view our work with the subject."

He opened his mouth to tell the man that he was NOT his son, and that, given half a chance, he would gladly take over the planet himself, but something in his mind sputtered at the thought. He blinked, and found himself saying, instead, "Maybe I will. Another time."

"Excellent. I'll inform security to let you in any time."

"Very well. Goodbye."

"Goodbye son. Enjoy your dinner."


	11. Reformatted

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Bid?" The Doctor's eyes peered at him with concern. "Even though it's a dream, it's going to hurt when you go through the final stage of returning to yourself. Donning the symbolic PAK will bring back memories of when the PAK was first attached to you in smeethood, and it does hurt."

"I'm ready," He stared steadily at Dr. Feto. "I want to be well again, and if this is the last step, I'm ready to take it."

Her eyes crinkled with a smile. "I'm so proud of you, Bid. It's been an honor helping you recover."

He blinked. "Been an honor? Am I not going to see you anymore?"

She shook her head. "No, Bid. You're going to go to sleep and dream this, and then the Almighty Tallest Purple will take over from there."

He gaped. "T-Tallest Purple? B-b-but…"

"He's so impressed with your recovery, Bid, he sees great potential in you and wishes to personally help you reintegrate into your mission."

"Right, my mission," he murmured. "In that case, thank you for everything Doctor."

"You're welcome, Bid. Now lay back."

He did so, laying back on his cot. As the familiar stinging at the back of his neck signaled his release from consciousness, he kept one thought in the forefront of his mind.

I am Irken.

…

Tallest Purple entered the cell of the test subject. He lay on his cot, sleeping peacefully. The wires that ran from the wall to the back of his neck hummed, feeding him images and stimulation in response to interactions in the dream world. In a few seconds, he would come to, believing this was all a dream.

And he did, blinking those infernally bizarre eyes of his, and looking at his hands. His eyes drifted to Tallest Purple, and he leapt to his feet, most likely saluting with antennae he did not have.

"My Tallest."

Purple tilted his head, studying the subject. There was no hint of falsehood about this one, he was fully convinced that he was Irken. "Hello, Bid. You see me as Tallest Purple, but I am really Doctor Feto." Dear Irk, this was fun. He wondered in passing just how far he could push the human's mental limits, but reminded himself that he had to focus. "Come. We're about to begin the final phase."

"Yes my… Doctor Feto."

Purple turned, waving down the force field, and leading the subject out of the cell to which he had been confined the last few weeks. They didn't go far, as the necessary equipment had been prepared in a room just down the hall.

In the room, an upright restraint had been prepared. The subject hesitated at the sight of it, but straightened, marching himself to it and extending his limbs. Bands of energy locked around his wrists, ankles, and middle, suspending him in midair.

Purple turned to a small counter, lifting off it a PAK he had custom built himself. It would provide all the necessary functions of a normal PAK, plus a continuous feed of false memories to suppress the true ones. The subject would have a direct line to himself, Tallest Purple, and would require less rest and nourishment than the normal human. An extra military download had been enabled, so the subject would have a tactical advantage. Standard combat lessons had won out over elite training downloads. This was, after all, the first test. Purple didn't want to overload his first subject. There was no guarantee he would even survive the PAK attachment.

The Tallest nodded to the alien specialist as he entered the room. He would be on standby in case the creature's vital signs failed.

"Are you ready, Bid?" Purple asked.

"Yes, Doctor." The subject replied without hesitation, a good sign.

Purple veered around behind the subject, and pressed the flat of the PAK against its soft, peach skin.

Wires from the PAK plunged through the skin, winding around the spinal cord and snaking up to attach to the base of the brain. The subject screamed, straining against the bonds as blood flowed down its back. Readouts showed his heart hammering at three times the normal speed. With practiced speed, the specialist pressed a needle to the subject's arm, injecting a slew of nanobots to steady the delicate nervous system and pull it out of shock.

Within a few moments, the screams faded to a steady, raspy breathing. The heart rate had slowed to normal, and the blood had dried up. The specialist wiped away the excess red liquid with visible disgust.

"Excellent." Purple grinned. "Now, initiate assimilation."

The PAK on the creature's back lit up with a brilliant red light, and he arched his back, mouth open in a silent cry. Purple glanced at the readouts, nodding at the data. The subject's mind would be flooded with enough false memories to suppress any original data. This would induce unconsciousness, then he would awake, ready to begin his mission.

Purple felt a rush of excitement. He couldn't wait to tell Red.


	12. Regroup

"Now, this will be your first day at Skool. What are you going to say?"

He could see himself in those goggles. A stringy little green thing dressed in a brand new T-shirt and jeans, with a bandaged head and trusting red eyes, reflected in opaque, blue eye-shields.

"I'm subject A-1, property of Membrane Inc. I am part of the brand new Alien Integration program. I am a perfectly peaceful alien under strict supervision, and I will not cause any harm."

"Very good," the man approved. Some of A1's nervousness lifted. This man's approval was so very important, and he was so forgetful of late. The man had been very patient with him, reminding him of his name countless times, and making sure he knew how peaceful his intentions were.

But still, this would be his first day going to this Skool place, full of human children. The man had warned him that they would probably stare, and point. Some might even laugh, but it was okay. They had never seen an alien before, and it was good to educate them that they did exist, and that they were absolutely peaceful.

"Um…" A1 glanced at the nametag the man wore. The man had been kind enough to order all his staff to wear various nametags so the alien would have an easier time if he forgot their names. "Professor. What if they ask about my head?"

"Just tell them it was an injury you received on coming to this planet, which Membrane Inc. is helping you recover from."

He nodded. "I think I'm ready. I want to learn all about Earth."

"Your new home." The Professor smiled at him. "Come on, I'll drive you there myself."

"Okay Professor." He turned, slipping his hand through the man's. The man hesitated, then took A1's hand. He pressed his hand against the wall, and the door slid open.

Simmons was wheeling past a cart strewn with mechanical parts. The man—Professor—stiffened, and jerked A1 back, but he saw. He saw the head of a small robot, devoid of eyes. The single antenna on its head limp, a little cyan sphere on the tip.

There were times that A1 had problems. Fits, as the Professor called them, usually involving a lot of pain in his head. But this time, the pain was in his chest, shooting through his guts. He dropped to his knees, opening his mouth in a keening wail. Liquid flowed from his eyes, and he couldn't make it stop.

The Professor shouted at Simmons, gesturing frantically. Simmons rushed off with the cart, dragging it out of view. The Professor knelt by Zim—Zim…. Who was Zim? He was A1—and shook him.

"A1, respond. Status report, what is happening?"

A1 choked out, through streams of liquid glopping down his face, "Why… does… it hurt..." A familiar pain pricked his arm, and his world went black.

…

Bid sat in the cockpit of a Voot Cruiser, running his peach-colored, five digit hands over the controls.

"To show just how far you have triumphed over your delusion," Tallest Purple had stated, handing him his mission download. "We are sending you back to the planet you had before you went mad. We activated your disguise for you, based on previous images you sent back. You will return to your cover of a small child in a prominent scientist's household."

"But—please forgive me, my Tallest—all that is information from my delusion! Won't that set me back?"

"We believe you are strong enough to overcome the delusion. This is all part of seeing just how strong you are, Invader Bid."

Bid frowned at his hand. He would not give in this time. He knew exactly who he was, and it would stay that way.

The wormhole Tallest Purple had directed him to gave him a much shorter route to the planet in question than he would have been able to find for himself. Already he orbited the planet's gravitational field, calculating his entry. At the right moment, he veered into the upper atmosphere, and plummeted into the ocean to cool the shell of his cruiser. He let it sit for a few moments, before pulling it out and directing it to his previous place of residence. He flipped a few switches, disguising the Voot as an old junker car. People might question why a prominent scientist such as Professor Membrane might keep such a car in his driveway, but they would not have any interest in stealing it.

Stepping out from the Voot, Bid pulled in a deep breath of air. Somehow the feeling gave him satisfaction, a nostalgic sense of belonging.

No. He shook his head. That was the imaginary life he thought he lived. He would not succumb. Glancing at his timepiece, he noted how late in the day it was. He hadn't rested for a week, a short resting period would do him good before he reintegrated into the Skool system.

He shook his head, wondering how the kids at Skool would take it. In his delusion, he had pointed out everyone else as being an alien. Now, he was the alien, and he wouldn't say a word.


	13. Reintegration

Bid took a seat in the classroom. Nobody noticed his return, nobody called greeting. It didn't surprise him. He recalled his time among these people, and how it had driven him to believe he was one of them. It would not happen again. He would be quiet, withdrawn. He would ensure minimal interaction so nothing would possibly—THWACK.

He felt the meaty hand slam into the back of his head. Torque Smacky, he guessed by the smell of him.

"Hey freak, nice backpack. See you on the playground."

Calmly, Bid righted himself. That could cause complications, meeting Smacky on the playground. If he was seen thrashing a fellow student, questions would be asked. Maybe if he got Smacky to an alley. No one would believe it was him, even if Smacky told. Yes, he liked that idea.

"Class," Ms. Bitters intoned, "It seems we have a first here. We have a new student from outer space, sponsored by Membrane Inc. State your name."

Bid froze. Had he been discovered so soon? He would have to take drastic measures, explode the Skool and be the sole survivor. He could act horrified, grief stricken, he would gain their sympathies.

"My name is A1." Came a soft, uncertain voice from the front.

Bid's attention snapped to the front. There, standing at the front of the classroom, was none other than—his mind went blank. Who was that Irken, and what was he doing exposed in front of humans? Bid's eyes caught on the bandaged head, and he filled in the blanks. A soldier, perhaps even one of his own scouts that had been left behind when he'd been recalled to Skitzatos, one that had been caught and experimented on in his absence.

"My name is A1, and I'm an alien peaceful person," the Irken stumbled over the order of his words. With the bandage on his head, this pointed to neural tampering, perhaps even barbaric vivisection practices. Bid gripped the edge of his desk, anger filling his spooch. How dare they do such a thing to one of his underlings?

"I'm peaceful property of Membrane Inc. Protectioned." The more nervous the Irken became, the worse his speech scrambled. His claws twitched, twining with each other and twisting around in agitation. Bid sensed he had rehearsed this speech often, and was still botching it horribly. His eyes narrowed. He would get to the bottom of this. If this really was one of his underlings, it was his responsibility to right whatever had gone wrong in his absence.

Ms. Bitters pointed to a desk in front of Bid. "Take your seat there, A1."

The Irken seemed only too happy to do so, scooting down the aisle quickly, oblivious to the shocked expressions around him. As he sat, Bid took a risk and donned a set of x-spec visual aids from his PAK. A quick glance confirmed, someone had been prodding around this Irken's brain, cutting and removing bits as they went. They hadn't even bothered to repair the bone structure they removed, leaving several vulnerable soft points to the head. As he retracted the visual aids, he could feel his anger rising.

The class moved as slowly as ever, the teacher droning on and on about how they would all perish horribly before they even graduated. Bid kept his mind from stagnating by attempting to contact the Irken in front of him through his PAK interlink, but without the his proper name—there was no way his name was actually A1—it was impossible to trace his PAK. He considered a direct wire connect, but without sufficient cover that would draw too much suspicion. He would wait, then, for recess. Then he would be able to get this A1 out of the public eye and interrogate him for answers on what happened. That is, if the poor wretch could even remember anymore.

…..

A1 kept his head down as he trudged out to the playground. He'd failed the man, the important man. He'd said it all wrong. The man would be so disappointed in him. Why was he such a failure?

He lifted his head for a moment, then dropped it again, not wanting to see the huge empty space the students left all around him. They wouldn't come near him. No one drew closer than three feet, despite the overcrowded hallway.

The man had encouraged him to make some friends too. Another thing he was already failing at.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and jerked him aside. He couldn't turn to see who it was, whoever it was propelled him forward as fast as they could go. Where were they going? He was shoved outside and dragged to the dumpsters. The hands pushed less now, but still prodded him to climb behind them, which he obediently did.

Finally, the pushing stopped, and he could turn around.

He blinked. He knew this person, this was the person on the funny little screen his toy made sometimes. He had spiky black hair, and an angry look a lot of the time. A1 shrank back. Was he angry now? Would he punish A1 for his mistakes?

The person's expression softened a little. "Don't be afraid soldier. I'm not one of them. It's me, Invader Bid."

A1 blinked. Invader?

"I'm sorry, I don't remember your name. You must have been one of my scouts before I went insane. What is your name?"

"I'm A1." He replied, confused.

"Your real name, soldier," the boy barked impatiently, "the one they gave you on your hatching day."

A1 shrank back against the concrete wall. "I don't know what you're talking about." He whispered. "A1 is my name, the nice man says so. He said my head got hurt when I fell from the sky, and they're taking care of me, I don't know anything else."

The boy's eyes narrowed. "Nice man, huh? What's his name?"

A1 opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mind had gone blank. A familiar humiliation rose in his chest, choking out his voice. Why couldn't he remember a simple name, like the name of the most important man he knew?

Again, the harsh expression on the boy's face faded. "It's alright soldier, they damaged you badly. I'll find a way to reverse it somehow. You can give me a status report then."

A1 nodded, unsure what the boy meant, but glad he wasn't angry.

"Where are you staying right now?"

"At the nice man's white rooms."

The boy inhaled sharply. "A laboratory. That's no good, soldier. You need to come with me now."

Shifting uneasily, A1 murmured, "But the nice man said come straight home after Skool, and Skool's not even done."

"No matter," the boy said firmly. "You're coming back to my base so I can properly inspect you."

"But the nice man—"

"The nice man will answer to me by the end of the day for this." The severe frown had returned to the boy's face. "Just trust me soldier, there are things you can't understand right now that you will understand later, I promise."

Hesitantly, A1 nodded. He could go with this boy a little bit at least. Hadn't the nice man said to make friends? Maybe he was making friends by doing this.

"Good. Now come with me, soldier. The sooner I inspect you, the sooner I can figure out who you are, and how to fix this mess."


	14. Blank

Bid made his way down the street, marching on with one hand wrapped around his subordinate's wrist. He would go to his house, he decided, the place where he grew up—blank. What was he thinking a moment before? It was the place he had set up base, right. His sister would be—blank. His robotic front for a family member would be there, probably as sullen and grouchy as he programmed It. Perhaps he should implant a new personality, one of a slightly more enjoyable disposition. Then again, with this personality, It never bothered him in the middle of his projects.

He glanced back. His subordinate had a frightened expression on, and whimpered slightly. He softened some. Stopping for a moment, he turned and put a hand on the poor creature's shoulder. "Everything will be alright, soldier. I promise, I'll fix everything. You don't have to be afraid."

The Irken still looked unsure, and seemed to want to be anywhere else, but Bid took his wrist again and led him into his base, a little more gently than before.

He passed It, sitting on the couch playing video games, and marched upstairs to his room.

"Good thing you're finally back, Dad's coming by this afternoon." It droned after him.

Dad? Blank. The scientist father. Bid had mind-wiped him and reprogrammed his memory to include Bid as his son, code name Dib. He had also eliminated the original child, Gaz, and replaced her with It, because she had come too close to blowing his cover. Yes, that's what had happened. He felt a wave of gratitude for his PAK, helping him fill in the holes in his memory time after time.

On arriving in the main room of his base, where he slept and worked, he closed the door and turned to the Irken. "Now, turn around, I need access to your PAK."

Shivering, the Irken turned around, but murmured, "What's a PAK?"

Pausing, Bid sighed. "It's the metal thing on your back, it stores all kinds of information."

"It does?" came the wondering voice.

"Yes." Bid pressed a panel on the Irken's PAK, and an opening appeared. Extending a wire from his own PAK, he plugged in and began the arduous task of scanning for data.

Fragmented bits and pieces came to him. The sensation of pain, the feeling of loss, the confusion as to who he was. And the face of the most important man… the face of the scientist father. Bid pushed that aside, reasoning the Irken probably could no longer distinguish who was and was not important to him. He probably just saw the scientist father's face and labeled him important. He frowned. Under all the bits of data, flashes of fleeting memories, and damaged instruments, Bid could hear someone screaming. It was somehow a familiar scream, and he could almost make out the words.

Diving down past data streams and fragments, he followed the trace, the faint sound of screaming coming through the PAK wire. He stopped abruptly as he came to a wall. This had to be the firewall surrounding the backup personality and memories. It was a heavy one, the PAK probably reinforced it to keep the original safe. If he could just get a peek in... He focused his attack on a small portion of the wall, unlocking code after code after code.

Suddenly a gap opened, throwing Bid back. Through the gap, with the volume of a Hsenna fowl, came the screech, "I AM ZIM! I AM ZIM! I AM ZIM!"

Zim? Bid gaped. Impossible. His military hero, here? But everyone knew the Invader had gone mad. Disappeared somewhere. He was here?

Good Irk, what had they done to him?

Bid blinked a moment. The fact that Zim had been here… that had been part of his delusion, had it not? But so was the whole situation he had been inserted into. What if It wasn't just It but… Gaz? What if the scientist hadn't been mind wiped, but was his father? What if—blank.

No!

Something inside him cried against it. He couldn't even remember a second ago, but something inside him reeled at the loss of whatever he had been grasping at moments before.

Disoriented, he disconnected from… the Irken in front of him. Frowning, he rubbed his head. Hadn't he just been trying to find out who this Irken was? Why hadn't he come away with any information?

The Irken's PAK was too badly damaged, his own PAK supplied. This one's identity was no longer retrievable.

A knock at the door. Bid started, cursing his softened senses. He hadn't even heard footsteps! He had to hide his subordinate. Grabbing his hand, he pushed him under the bed. "Stay down!"

Turning to the door, he called, "Come in."

The door swung open, revealing the scientist father. "Hello son, good to see you safe and sound at home. I knew the little green one was lying."

Bid blinked, processing the scientist's words. "Lying?"

"Well, we caught that little alien you've been chasing all over, and it claimed you were on its home planet, being brainwashed or some nonsense. Obviously you're perfectly fine, safe and sound. You haven't seen the little alien, have you? It didn't return after Skool like it was supposed to, the tracker indicates it's hiding nearby."

Bid's knees locked in place, his spine rigid. The scientist father had placed a tracker on the Irken. The only conclusion that could be drawn from that was that the scientist father was behind the Irken's massive trauma and loss of identity. He had to get the Irken as far away as possible, and disable that tra—

"Hi Professor." The Irken wriggled out from under the bed, beaming, and walking toward the man. "I remembered your name!" Bid was disturbed at the level of pride in the Irken's voice over such a simple act. "Sorry I didn't come back, made a friend!"

The scientist looked startled by this. "A friend? With Dib?"

A small ache started at the back of Bid's neck.

The Irken tilted his head. "That his name?"

"Yes, he's my son. Well, well done son, you've helped him make marvelous progress in integrating into the human world as a non-threatening alien. We'd better get him back to the lab now though."

The Irken's antennae drooped. "Gotta make me more better? More better hurts."

Bid's vision began to darken.

"Maybe a little, but not too much. We'll be careful." The scientist promised.

"Okay." The Irken walked forward, closer to that… hyuman, that… foul, stinking, horrendous…

Bid let out a cry of rage, flinging himself forward. His small body connected to the scientist's chest, knocking him to the ground. Wires sprang from his PAK, pinning the man's arms to the ground as he yanked back the infernal collar and wrapped his hands around that detestable neck.

"S-son!"

"I am not your son!" Bid screamed, spraying the scientist's face with spittle. "And you are the lowest form of sentience there is!"

The man struggled against him. He had the advantage of size, but Bid had his PAK, and a massive array of tools at his disposal. He brought out a razor-tipped wire from his PAK. Maybe he would slice the man open, just like he'd done to this poor Irken. Except he wouldn't close him up after. He'd just leave him open and bleeding, and bleeding until—

"Dib!" A desperate cry cut through his rage. Someone was tugging on his arm. He blinked, turning to face the distraught Irken.

"Dib stop, please, he knows my name!"

Dib. Dib. Dib. That had been his name in his delusion, his code name. The Irken was just repeating what he'd been told by the scientist, and yet… and yet that voice, shouting that name… Blank.

He looked down at the scientist, now unconscious under his grip. Chagrined, he retracted his wires. He had let himself get carried away, and now his cover was blown. Growling, he stood and paced away from the man. He turned to the Irken. "Come, we'll set up a new base, find somewhere else to observe from."

The Irken wasn't even looking at him. He was kneeling by the scientist, cradling the man's head and crying. "Don't be sick, don't be sick, it hurts when you're sick. Wake up, wake up and tell me my name. Please…"

Bid growled, "Soldier! Time is of the essence, follow me!"

The Irken looked up, eyes full of tears, and shouted, "Go away! You brought pain! He knows my name, you don't! Leave me alone!"

Shocked, Bid took a step back. This creature was obviously sick beyond repair. And if there was no help for him, he would only be a hindrance in Bid's mission.

"Very well soldier." Bid's voice was clipped as he turned on his heel. "Don't blame me when he takes you apart and puts you in twenty separate jars." With that, he glided down the stairs, walked past It, and left his base.


	15. Desperate

The Professor choked, gasping for air as his eyes flew open. All he could see was the distraught face of A1 leaning over him. Was the little alien crying? Over him? The last person who had ever cried in front of him had been…

Dib. His son. His son had attacked him. His son had had one of those metal things on his back that the alien had. The alien had been telling the truth, his kind had stolen Dib and done horrible things to his son.

He hadn't been home in weeks, the abduction of his son was plausible. No, it was definite. He sat up, abruptly.

A1 clung to his arm tightly. "Be okay please, tell me my name."

Sudden anger curled in his stomach. This one knew about his son, knew where he had been. No, he shook his head to clear the emotional surge. He had known. Whatever he had known, he didn't know any longer.

But he could know, couldn't he? His mind drifted to the tank, where they were keeping portions of the alien's brain suspended in a nutrient rich solution for further studies. Theoretically those portions could be returned to his brain. Whether they would take or not was another matter, but it had to be attempted.

Swiftly he stood, gathering A1 up into his arms. "Come along A1, we're going back to the lab."

A1 beamed, snuggling into the Professor's arms, rejoicing that for a few more seconds, he would know his name.

It was only a short drive from the Membrane household to the labs, especially with the Professor's foot like lead on the gas pedal. Hurrying over to the room where A1 was kept, he set the alien down in the green-stained chair, gently strapping his arms and legs down.

A1's ruby eyes began filling with liquid. "I don' wanna hurt, 'Fessor."

Membrane paused for a moment. Every time he heard those words, it was just a little harder to do what he had to do. But his son was on the line now, and if the alien knew what he was about to regain, he would welcome the pain for it.

"It'll be over very soon, I promise," Membrane patted his head gently. Turning, he called, "Simmons, the brain tissue samples. I want them in here in five minutes." Snapping on a fresh pair of black gloves, he turned to his tools, freshly sterilized for his use, and arranged them in order as he waited.

Soon, Simmons wheeled in a small tank with three portions of brain suspended in a purple goo. Deftly, the Professor turned to the alien, unwinding the bandage from his head and swabbing it with alcohol.

The front of A1's shirt darkened with tears, and he whimpered.

Steeling himself, the Professor laid open the top of his head with a few cuts. There were the skull openings he had left, and there were the gaps where the brain matter was missing. Fortunately, he had carefully made note of which piece went where with each removal.

Working swiftly, he first poured some of the nutrient solution into the gaps to ease the transition, then carefully slid each piece of brain back into place. With that done, he sealed up the skin over the Irken's piecemeal skull, and waited.

After a minute, A1 looked up, eyes still watery. "Is it over?"

Membrane stared. Had it not worked? Would the information necessary to his son's salvation be locked away forever? His eyes fell on the little metal backpack the alien had.

Perhaps… if he activated some of the mechanisms that they had rendered useless… didn't the backpack have some self-healing mechanisms, or something of that sort?

It would be dangerous, but it was his only chance of regaining his son. Flicking a glove, he dismissed Simmons with a faint shower of green droplets. As soon as Simmons left, Membrane locked the door behind him.

Turning to the alien, he unbound his restraints and pulled him out of the chair. "Now, A1. I want you to listen very carefully."

"Okay." A small note of cheer entered the creature's voice as Membrane turned him around, so his backpack was facing the Professor.

"I want you to think very hard about your name, and what your name is, alright? I'm going to fix your backpack."

"Okay 'Fessor, I'll try real hard, do real good for you, promise!" With that, A1 scrunched his forehead hard, staring at the ground. Membrane pressed a panel on the backpack, and it slide aside. Grabbing a few tools, he began tinkering around inside. He connected wires that had been severed, pressed buttons that had been depressed, and adjusted knobs to the exact specifications they had been at when they had first opened up the marvelous mechanism.

As he turned one particular dial, A1's head tilted back, his eyes bulged nearly from their sockets, and his mouth opened to its widest capacity as a long, piercing scream ricocheted through the room.

Membrane toppled backward, his eardrums instantly shredded. He could see the alien's mouth open, but could not hear anything. A stab of loss incapacitated him momentarily, but he shook his head. Red drops flew from his ears as he did. He had no time to think about such trivial things as hearing right now. He grabbed the alien's shoulder.

…..

He could feel it. The exact moment when the wall shattered and he came pouring back into himself, the right way. Zim. That was his name. Not A1, A1 was the name THEY had put upon him as their property. He was nobody's property, he never had been, and never would be. He was Zim! But IRK the pain, he could hardly think straight. Was the Dib a baloney right now or was he headed for the room with a moose? Or was he in the candy cane jail?

No, Dib was trapped on Irk.

No. He had seen Dib. Dib had thought he was an Irken, and thought that he, ZIM, was his subordinate. That had to be stopped. But first he had to stop his own infernal screaming. Why was he still screaming? Ah yes, the searing pain in his head. He had the Professor to thank for that, didn't he?

And he could feel his tools again. Not all of them, but most of them. Enough to make the man wish he had never been birthed.

He turned to face the man who had caused him so much agony, only to be gripped by the shoulders. Gloves, black gloves slippery with his own green blood, held him fast. The Professor was shouting something. What was he shouting? He forced his own mouth closed, restraining his screams.

"YOU HAVE TO RESCUE DIB!"

Why was the imbecile yelling? Zim could hear him perfectly well. Ah, blood from the ears. He had destroyed the human's audio capabilities. That was only the start, of course, but a good beginning to the man's demise.

"YOU HAVE TO RESCUE DIB!"

Rage clouded Zim's vision. Robotic tentacles whipped out of his PAK, binding the Professor and securing him in place. He pulled a communicator out from his PAK and scrawled a few words in their primitive language, turning it to face the Professor. "Why shouldn't I just kill you now?"

To his credit, the human didn't even flinch. "BECAUSE THEN DIB WOULD NEVER HELP YOU AND IF ANYONE KNOWS HOW TO HELP YOU IT'S DIB ISN'T IT? HE KNOWS YOU BEST, DOESN'T HE? HE DOES NOTHING BUT TALK ABOUT YOU."

Zim hissed, furious. It was true that if he needed help, Dib would be the only one capable of giving it. But he scrawled on the communicator, "Zim needs no help from Dib."

The Professor shook his head obstinately. "I DON'T KNOW IF YOUR BRAIN WILL CONTINUE TO CONNECT WITH THE PIECES FOR LONG. YOU MAY REVERT BACK AT ANY TIME."

A cold chill ran down Zim's spine. Revert? To that brainless, spineless, smeet-like creature who didn't even know his own name? Irk no…

And if Dib could prevent that…. He growled lowly, releasing the Professor. Quickly, he scribbled, "Release me, and I will find Dib." And once he had fixed himself, or forced Dib to fix him, he would come back and slaughter every last human dressed in white in the entire building. Especially the one wearing goggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I had no idea, but apparantly I'm featured in pmwiki's TV tropes Nightmare Fuel section. I'm… I think I'm proud. I can't tell, I just think it's the funniest thing ever that I ended up in the Nightmare Fuel section. I've been giggling over it for the last fifteen minutes, though not too loudly. Nighttime and all in the house.


	16. Shutdown

Bid stood back, observing his handiwork. From this, and at least seven other vantage points, the tree looked exactly like any other tree in the forest. But a tiny Irken insignia carved in the gnarled roots of the tree marked it as Bid's new base. Up in the branches, he had already begun assembling equipment. Most of his had been left back at the old base—a necessary if inconvenient occurrence. It happened from time to time to various invaders, and it was a marvelous opportunity to test their skills to adapt.

Between his PAK, a few things he had grabbed on his way out, and some stealthily shoplifted computer hardware, he had already managed a near-invisible force field dome over the tree to keep out the worst of the sun's rays and the occasional rain. Small monitors hung like tiny Christmas ornaments on various branches, with tiny generators planted in various squirrel holes. He had, of course, quickly evicted any animals from the tree, so the holes were now ready for use. His next project was a perception filter, to divert even mild curiosity from the tree.

He was in the middle of working on it, when his PAK picked up a distress signal. Alert, he tuned in to the frequency.

It was that alien's PAK. Bid frowned. He shouldn't get involved. The alien had made it clear that he was not interested in Bid's help. On the other hand, the agony in this frequency made him question whether or not the creature would understand now the help he really needed.

Just as suddenly, the distress faded, replaced by a surge of raw fury that sent Dib sprawling against the branch. Hastily, he closed off the link. What had happened? The miserable wretch he'd seen hadn't been capable of irritation, much less rage. He had to find out what had happened.

Hopping down from his branch, he cautiously opened up to the signal again, filtering out the emotional aspect and focusing on the location.

To his surprise, the locator blipped, indicating the search was mutual. The Irken was looking for him. Could the Irken have broken free of his captors? The sudden distress signal followed by rage could mean so. But just in case the scientist was using him as a "sniffing dog" to find him, he put several miles of distance between himself and his base. He stood in a small clearing, at the base of a weathered oak, waiting.

A couple hours passed before he picked up the sound of something thrashing through the underbrush, cursing angrily. Well, he liked the sound of that. That sounded more like an Irken soldier, less like the meek smeet he had encountered before. Still, he tensed for combat, ready for anything.

The Irken stumbled into the clearing, eyes instantly locking on Bid. Bid, in turn, stared at the soldier, assessing him. His eyes were brighter, clearer and more focused. Dried blood ran down his head from recent surgery, and one antenna hung limp. The ligament had probably been severed during careless surgery, Bid noted coolly. The Irken could still hear, but would have his balance and expressiveness hindered without the ability to move it.

"So, soldier," Bid regarded him as he caught his breath. "You escaped. Have you remembered who you are?"

"I am Zim," the Irken snarled, "And you are Dib."

ERROR. MEMORY INTEGRATION ENDANGERED. REBOOT REQUIRED. The words flashed in front of Bid's eyes. He frowned, waving a hand at them distractedly. "That is my cover name and—did you say Zim?" His eyes widened slightly. "The Zim? The great Invader who vanished years ago?"

"I didn't vanish!" Zim snapped. "I was sent here to conquer this stupid planet, but you!" He pointed at Bid with a shaking arm. "You were always, always in my way! And now because the universe thinks this is a funny joke to play on Zim, I am in need of your assistance, Dib!"

Bid grinned, swatting again at the message flashing in front of his eyes. "My name is Bid, Invader Zim, but it is an honor to meet you! I was only a smeet when you were lost—were you under experimentation that whole time?" Bid's expression darkened. "Perhaps now you understand that that fool scientist should be destroyed."

Zim seemed to pause a moment. A distinct gleam appeared in his eyes as he thought this over, but to Bid's consternation, he shook it off. "No, I will deal with him later. Right now, I need to return you to your senses!"

"Not this 'Dib' business again. Invader Zim, with all due respect, you have undergone major experimental surgery and are not fully functional yet. Now that I am quite sure the scientists are not following you, I will show you to my new base where you can rest and—"

"Why do you look human?"

Bid paused. "This is my hologram, my disguise."

"Why do you have it on right now? It's just us."

Irritated, Bid dropped his hologram. He looked down at his hands, now three-clawed and green. He glared at Zim. "Satisfied?"

Zim had a grim expression on his face. "Almost. Tell me, 'Bid', can a hologram synthesize the color of blood from a wound?"

Bid blinked. "We haven't gotten around to programming that yet, it hasn't been deemed necessary."

Zim drew closer, eyes glinting. "And what color is Irken blood?"

Bid shifted, wary. "Green, every Irken knows that. Why?"

Fast as lightening, Zim's PAK shot out a spiderleg, slashing into Bid's arm. More shocked than pained, Bid grabbed the tip, wrenching it out and slinging Zim aside into the nearest tree. The Irken hit the trunk, crumpling at the base, eyes dulling. Bid looked down at the wound.

His arm dripped red.

PERSONALITY INTEGRATION FAILURE. FULL MEMORY WIPE INITIATED. ORIGINAL PERSONALITY SHUTDOWN IN 4:53.

Dib's eyes widened. He'd been used. Tricked. Brainwashed. And now they were going to delete his brain, and remote control his body with this… thing on his back! Turning to Zim, he bolted over, sliding to his knees by the Irken's body.

"Zim! You have to help me! Please!" He grabbed Zim's shoulders, shaking them. "You have to get this off me, it's going to delete me!"

Zim's eyes flickered weakly. "What's my name?" he murmured, putting a hand to his head.

No. No, this could not be happening. Dib gripped Zim's shoulders and shouted, "Listen you undersized space lizard! You idiotic insect, you tiny little alien—"

Zim's eyes flared open, and his hand flew up, gripping Dib's jaw like a vise. "Not. One. More. Word." His voice was deadly, and his face strained with anger.

Anger, Dib noted, that gets him working.

ORIGINAL PERSONALITY SHUTDOWN IN 4:12.

Dib opened his mouth, but Zim squeezed harder. "Turn around now."

Obediently, Dib turned around. He felt the panels of his PAK slide open, and wires connecting to the circuits.

INTRUSION. EMERGENCY PERSONALITY SHUTDOWN INITIATED.

Dib's eyes widened. "Zim it's sta—" He felt his mind slipping.

"DON'T YOU DARE!" He could hear Zim's roar as the edges of his vision turned black. "DON'T YOU DARE VANISH, DO YOU HEAR ME? YOUR NAME IS DIB, YOU ARE A STINKING HUMAN DIB!"

As Dib's eyes closed, he felt Zim's personality plunge headlong into his own PAK.

Zim. Please. Help me.


	17. Core

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I've gotten a few reviews telling me that Irken blood is transparent pink/purple. But for as long as I can recall I've seen all different colors tossed around, from blue to clear to pink to red. So I settled on the obvious color, green. Jhonen may have an official color, but for the sake of my sanity and not getting wrapped up in arguments over the color, I'm sticking with green. I humbly acknowledge it is the wrong color, but stubbornly choose it anyway. I have also chosen, as of now, to raise the rating on this story from T to M, because it's been labeled nightmare fuel, and it's not getting any better in this chapter. I think it's better to be safe than banned.

Zim opened his eyes in black space. For a moment, he panicked, jerking his head down to stare at his feet, afraid there wouldn't be anything there. To his relief, a brightly lit circuit board stretched on under his feet. That was good, wouldn't do to come in and be hanging over nothing. Yes, a green and red circuit board would do.

Red?

Immediately he knelt, swiping his hand across the circuits. The red came away, coating his hand. He lifted his head, eyes following the trail of blood to the end of the walkway.

The circuit board walkway branched out and upward to form a small platform with three walls. Dib had been stretched out against the central wall. His head tilted to the side, his mouth open in silent screams. Two long metal pins had been driven through his shoulders, and two through his knees, staking him to the wall. It was from here that the blood had come.

Directly in front of Dib stood an Irken. It stood several heads taller than Dib, and Zim didn't have to see his face to know who it was. One of its antennae twitched, and Zim knew his presence had been noted.

"If you know what is good for you, you will leave. Find yourself a hole on this rock to live out the rest of your life."

Zim swallowed, his throat burning. "You knew, didn't you? You monitored all his communications, you must have known what was happening to me."

Tallest Purple turned, regarding him with a cold stare. "What of it?"

"What of it? What of it? Why didn't you save me? Why didn't you send someone to come and get me?"

Purple sneered. "Why would we waste resources on a pathetic defective, who doesn't even know banishment when he is issued it?"

Zim felt something inside him break. At the same time, he felt something else pull together. His eyes narrowed, and he turned to Dib.

"Dib human."

Dib's head lifted, slightly, his watering eyes staring at Zim.

"Endure. I will be back."

Purple turned back to Dib. "You won't make it to the core, Zim. He'll be long gone by then."

Zim smirked at Purple's back, extending his spiderlegs. "You don't know the Dib." With that, he turned, hurtling off the edge of the walkway.

…

Dib's head drooped again. Endure? How? And for how long? Why wasn't Zim trying to save him? His thoughts scattered as fresh pain tracked down his side. Purple had extended a spiderleg and sliced the skin down his left side.

"You're of no further use to us as you were. You should save yourself the pain and let yourself vanish. At least then your body will further the empire's plan."

Dib's fists clenched. Endure. He'd come too far and fought too hard to just give in and become an Irken's pawn.

Purple leaned forward, digging his claws into the gash on Dib's side. "Really, what use were you ever? Your memories all indicate you were rather useless to this planet. Everybody said so. Nobody would really miss your presence."

Dib gritted his teeth. Nobody would miss me until they were enslaved, then they'd know, but it would be too late. I won't let that happen. I will not become one of them. Not ever again.

…

Zim caught himself by the spiderlegs on several circuit paths on the way down, slowing his fall. They sparked and chipped as he passed them, but he ignored that. He had to get to the core.

Where was the core?

He frowned, searching around in his own PAK. The core was generally located in the center of the PAK, surrounded by a firewall.

Well, any firewall can be breached. Especially if you are Zim.

He continued downward, springing from path to path. He could just make out a speck of hot blue glowing in the depths of the blackness…

…

Dib bashed his head against the wall, his tongue protruding as he gasped for air. Purple's claws had slid deep into his gash, probing around between his ribs.

"Let go," Purple whispered. "Let go, and it will all stop."

Hurry Zim…

…

Zim slammed into a panel, the force driving him to his hands and knees. His head throbbed, and he was sure it was going to explode into little pieces. He looked up. The core was a lot bigger from inside the PAK. It towered three stories over his head, completely surrounded by walls of blue flame that rippled and licked all over the surface of the core.

Hurrying over, Zim laid a hand on the fire. As expected, the code burned, flinging him back with an authoritative crack. He groaned, pulling himself back up. He could feel his anger draining away, replaced by exhaustion. When had he last rested? How long had he been tortured? Why was he doing this? He didn't need this, he just needed to sleep. Maybe he wouldn't even wake up. Dib could fend for himself. He always had.

…

Purple's arm was buried up to the elbow in Dib's side, and Dib could feel the long claws searching his organs for the heart. He vomited at the feeling of an arm inside him, spilling the sick all over himself. Maybe I should just give up. Zim isn't going to save me. He just left me.

As the words ran through his thoughts, Purple's claws closed around his heart.

…

The blackness shuddered, rippling with the agonized scream of the human child. Zim's rage blazed to life. Nobody injured the Dib but him. Nobody. Not even Tallest Purple.

With a matching scream, Zim darted up to the flames, and thrust himself inside. His rage ripped through the coding like a wind clearing clouds aside, and he was through. Irken coding had never been particularly effective against raw emotions.

Faced with the core, Zim realized he had two choices. He could completely disable it, returning Dib completely to normal, or…

…

A shock slammed into Purple, jerking him away from Dib, who gagged, blood dripping from his mouth. Purple glared down into the void. "Zim, if you know what's good for you, you'll—" He didn't get to finish. Another bolt slammed into Purple. And another, and another.

Dib looked up, the pins in his shoulders and knees disintegrating. "Zim isn't doing that." Dib's ragged voice echoed in the dark. "I am. I have control of this thing, now. Not the other way around. And you're not welcome here." Stretching out a red-streaked arm, he directed a massive surge at Tallest Purple.

…

Purple slumped in his chair, disconnecting from the remote device. Wearily, he rubbed his eyes. The experiment had been a fiasco, a complete and utter failure. He allowed himself a moment of disappointment, before shrugging. "Oh well. There are plenty of other ways to subvert a planet. You there, guard, bring in the Meekrob we caught last week. I want to have a word with him."


	18. Protection

"Zim?" Dib had managed to carefully lower himself down several levels of circuitry to the alien's location. "Zim?" He coughed, spitting the last of the vomit taste from his mouth as he landed at the bottom. "Where are you? Stupid alien."

He grimaced, holding his side as he hobbled forward, eyes sweeping back and forth for the green-skinned Invader. He finally found him, sprawled at the base of a wall of blue fire. "Zim!"

Darting forward, he grabbed Zim's shoulder, jerking him up in panic. "Zim? Answer me!" He put his hand over the alien's chest, then cursed. He didn't know where the stupid Irken's heart was, he wouldn't be able to feel a pulse even if he tried.

Zim's eyes slid open, slowly. He stared at Dib, a bewildered expression on his face. His mouth opened and closed a few times, as he tried to speak, and finally managed to croak, "You're… I know you…"

Dib groaned. Zim was gone again! Not gone, but not himself. Well, he was himself, but damaged—Dib shook his head. Now was not the time to be arguing with himself! He stared down at Zim helplessly. What was he supposed to do? What brought Zim back last time?

Anger. He had made Zim angry.

"Listen you overgrown bug-eyed insect from Mars!" Dib growled. "I don't know who you think you're kidding, but this is beyond your usual stupidity you piece of—"

SMACK.

Dib's head whipped back as claws raked along his cheek, leaving a trio of scratches along his face.

"Smart, hyuman worm, but it isn't enough."

Dib blinked, turning back to see Zim's face, set with a grim expression. "Not enough? What do you mean?"

"As I brilliantly figured out, and you discovered, anger seems to be the key to reconnecting the parts of my brain that were removed. But it isn't enough to hold the connection longer than a few moments. I am permanently damaged." His voice was cold, controlled. Not at all like his usual rant, and that scared Dib worse than any rage Zim had ever unleashed.

"There has to be a way!" Dib protested. "You can't stay like that!"

"There's nothing!" Zim snapped. "You can't just reconnect neural tissue that has been sliced apart. And now that I've saved your worthless hide there's nothing to keep that organ-hunting parental unit of yours from taking me back to the lab!"

Dib winced. He knew Zim was right. He gathered that his father had pieced Zim's mind back together and unleashed him with the purpose of helping his son, but with Dib recovered, nothing would stop Membrane from reclaiming Zim as a lab rat.

Claws gripped his wounded shoulders, and he yelped as they dug at his gashes. Fierce red eyes burned into his. "You have to keep me safe. You have to protect me."

Dib's jaw dropped.

"You have to!" Zim's voice rose in desperation. "You have to keep him from taking me apart anymore! I can't…" His voice cracked. "I can't take it anymore. I'm already in pieces. Dib…" He took a deep breath. "I need your help."

The words echoed in the darkness around them. Dimly, Dib recollected the words as they had been spoken by Zim only weeks before over the communicator. He hadn't been inclined or able to do anything. This time…

"P…please." Zim grated the word out. "I left your PAK abilities intact. The override and personality program are disabled, but all functions have been left untouched. You have the ability to protect me." His eyes shone with fear. "You have to use it for the times when I cannot protect myself."

Dib could hear the strain in Zim's voice, could almost see the Invader slipping back into his helpless personality, but fighting it. Reaching out, he took Zim's claws in his own hand, wrapping all five, rounded digits around Zim's three claws, and shook his hand.

"You can count on me, soldier." Dib said, soberly.

Relief swept over Zim's face, as the Invader relinquished the strenuous hold on his mind. Zim's eyes lost their glare, and stared up at Dib in trepidation.

"I know you…" Zim whispered, troubled.

Dib reached out, carefully, and gently patted Zim's head. "Yes, you know me. My name is Dib. Yours is Zim."

"Zim," the alien rolled the word around in his mouth, as if trying it on. "I like it. Zim. We should tell the man… he needs to know my name."

"Yes," Dib sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, he does."


	19. Sacrifice

It hadn't been pretty, dragging Zim all the way up through the layers of the PAK and pushing him back through the connection. Willing himself awake was even harder, but Dib managed after about the ninth try. When he did, he found everything hurt. There were no wounds in his shoulders and knees, that had been in his mind, but he had really pushed his body to the limits in the last few days, limits that had been blocked out by the PAK.

And he had really thrown up all over himself.

He'd managed to coax the rather wary Zim to follow him with the promise that, yes, they were going to see the important man so they could tell him Zim's new name. So, stinking to high heaven and reminding Zim every two minutes exactly where they were going, Dib stumbled wearily out of the forest, walking in the general direction of his home. He wouldn't risk using his new PAK in public, he wasn't that stupid. He would save it for a more private encounter with his father.

Hopefully he wouldn't have to.

Finally, he staggered through the door to his home. Membrane bolted up from the couch, dashing over. "Son!" He halted, arms reaching in spite of his sudden stop. His collar was rumpled enough that Dib could see the nasty bruise where he had tried to strangle his own father. Small squares had been fitted over the Professor's ears, and Dib recognized them as one of Membrane's inventions, meant to restore hearing. He sighed.

"It's okay, Dad. Zim found me, he… he got me back."

Relief swept over the Professor's face. His arms twitched, and for just a moment, Dib wondered if his father would actually embrace him. But the Professor just put both hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently. His voice was thick as he said, "I'm glad you're home, son."

It wasn't a hug, but then his Dad wasn't the type really. Dib grabbed the Professor's arms and squeezed back.

Membrane cleared his throat. "Now then, we'd better get this one back to the lab, yes? What say you, A1?"

Zim had been examining a pizza box with the fascination of a toddler when he heard the words. He looked up, beaming. "I'm Zim!"

Membrane chuckled a little. "Ah, well, not really. You're A1."

Zim frowned a little. "But… but Dib said my new name's Zim."

Dib held onto his father's arms, even as Membrane began letting go. Just one more minute, his mind begged. Just one more minute. You're not going to think the same of me after this.

Membrane released Dib and turned to Zim. "Well, we'll get all that sorted out back at the lab. Come along now."

Reluctantly, Dib stepped in front of Membrane, staring straight up into his reflective goggles. "His name is Zim, Dad."

Membrane paused, hearing more in that sentence than had been said. "Son, I know you would like for it to be Zim, but it's not anymore. He's A1, and he's a successful experiment in alien integration. He needs to go back to a safe environment. He'd never survive on his own anymore."

"That's why I'm making him a safe environment here." Dib set his jaw. "He's going to stay here and live with us, just like any normal kid. And you are not going to touch him again."

Membrane frowned. "Son, you are still a child. You do not have the authority to order me about my scientific achievements. Now step aside."

Dib didn't move.

"Step aside, Dib."

Three small clicks were heard, and wires extended from Dib's PAK. They shot from the holes toward the Professor's face, stopping centimeters short. Membrane jerked back with a shout. "I thought-!"

Heavily, Dib replied, "I'm still me, Dad. Zim was the one who brought me back, made sure my PAK would never have control of me again, and then begged me to keep him safe. From you."

Membrane fell silent.

"He doesn't remember. He wouldn't, unless I made him angry, but I'm not gonna let him down, Dad. Not after he saved me from… from becoming him." Dib smiled crookedly. "Even if he didn't do it for that." His smile vanished. "And yeah, I've got the authority. You lost yours after what you did to him. You took something from him he's never going to get back all the way. Something I was lucky enough to get back. Identity. You lost your right to have any say about him when you did that." The wires extended tiny claws that spun and clicked threateningly. "Zim is going to stay with us now. I will look him over myself every single day, and if I ever find one more scar, one more cut than what he already has, or if I wake up and he's not in my room, I'm…" You have to say it, Dib. He has to take you seriously, for Zim's sake. "I'll know who's responsible, and who I have to make sorry for it."

Membrane's arms fell to his sides, and he met Dib's gaze. There was silence for a full five minutes, before Membrane replied, "If that is your decision, son." Then he turned around, walked out the door, and locked it behind him.

Dib knew, in that moment, he would hardly ever be seeing his father in the house again. Slowly, he sank to his knees, head lowered and fists clenched.

A timid hand touched his shoulder, then patted it gently. "Are you okay? Dib?" Zim murmured quietly. "Does it hurt?"

Dib choked a little. "Yeah. It hurts, Zim."

"I'm sorry it hurts."

Dib took a deep breath, then glanced up with a watery smile. "It's okay Zim. It'll stop hurting, it just takes awhile."

Zim regarded him with a cautious stare. "Okay."

Dib's stomach growled, and he started, then laughed. "Hey Zim, are you hungry? I'm starved."

…..

Days turned into weeks. Most of Dib's muscles eventually stopped hurting, although his spine never fully recovered from the trauma of the PAK insertion. He would often wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, his spinal muscles contracted into agonizing cramps around the wires as if attempting to reject them. His groans would wake Zim, across the room, who would come over and hold his hand, patting it and talking to him about the things that had happened that day—often the same thing he had told him the night before—until it passed.

Weeks turned into months. The Professor showed up once, on Christmas, and only stayed for ten minutes. Dib cried for an hour after he left, and once again, Zim was there to hug him and carefully hand him tissues around the burning tears.

Months turned into years. As Dib grew, and Zim didn't, he kept his promise. Every now and then he would intentionally anger the alien. Then Zim would pompously demand an update on how Dib was treating him, lecture him about Irken needs, and threaten him with death should he so much as bring a pair of scissors within ten feet of him.

Once, though, Zim stopped mid-rant, and looked up at Dib. Dib had gained a few feet on Zim, the boy now in his mid-teens. What came out of Zim's mouth was the last thing he could possibly have expected.

"Thank you, Dib." His eyes burned into the human's. "Don't think I haven't seen how much you sacrificed to keep me safe."

Dib swallowed a little. Saying it was nothing would be an incredible insult to the Irken, as well as being a lie. So, instead, he gave a small smile. "It was worth it. Besides, you know I can't really ever pay you back any other way."

Zim smiled crookedly. "Yeah. Your pathetic hyuman mind would never come up with enough ways to repay the mighty debt you owe."

Dib rolled his eyes. "Whatever, space lizard."

Zim's expression sobered. "Is it still there?"

"Is what?"

"The brand."

Dib reached up and over his shoulder, just above the shoulderblade. A little white scar remained, the Irken insignia. "Yeah. It's still there."

Zim fell silent. He didn't ask why Dib hadn't had it removed, and Dib didn't defend it. They both knew. Both would bear the scars of what happened their whole lives, and they would keep them as reminders of who they were. Those scars had become part of them.

"Dib?"

Dib shook his head, he'd gotten lost in his musings. "Yeah Zim?"

"Can I have some ice cream?"

Dib smiled sadly, realizing Zim had slipped back. "Yeah Zim. I'll get you some, okay?"

"Okay. Hey Dib?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you my brother?"

Dib paused for a moment. Zim at his fullest capacity would probably kill him for this, but he didn't care. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Zim beamed, his eyes shining. "Wow. I didn't know that."

"I didn't either, I guess I just found out, huh?" He chuckled, patting Zim's head gingerly. "Now come on, let's get some ice cream."


	20. Epilogue

Red eyes watched Dib as he carefully pulled a pizza out of the oven. Something wasn't right. He couldn't put a claw on it, but something hadn't been right for awhile. It had been nagging him in the back of his mind for a long time now, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

"Pizza's almost ready, Zim, better clean up." Dib flashed a smile at him.

Zim turned and pattered into the bathroom Dib had built for him, the one that ran only cleansing gel instead of water, and stuck his claws under the faucet. He could feel it, slowly building in his chest. He didn't like the feeling. Whenever he had it, he was pretty sure he fell asleep, and then when he woke up, Dib looked sad. He didn't like it when Dib looked sad. Maybe he could make the feeling go away by thinking of nice things.

So many nice things. He missed the important man, but he could barely remember him now. It was always Dib now, Dib and the purple girl. The purple girl just stayed on the couch. He wondered sometimes if she ever left the couch, but Dib said not to bother her. Dib would bring him all kinds of nice things from outside, like chocolate and toys and puzzles. Puzzles were fun, they took a really long time, but Dib was always patient, helping him with them. Sometimes they got to go outside, but only at night. Dib said it wasn't safe to go out in the day, and even at night Dib would only take him out if he wore a mask and hat. But he loved to see the stars. They made him happy and sad all at once, and he had no idea why.

Why does she never leave the couch?

He shook his head, drying his claws on the towel. He didn't have to think about that, he could think about the time Dib stayed up all night with him after he had a nightmare, watching funny movies with him and dumping popcorn over his head. That was fun, especially when they threw it at each other.

The metal bowl hit his head. He didn't even blink.

"Stop it," He said out loud. He stared at the mirror sternly. "I don't wanna go to sleep."

How long?

He put his hands to his head. "No."

How long?

His claws dug into his scalp.

How long has it been?!

He only caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror, the one twisted by rage and fury, before he slipped away.

….

Zim stormed out of the bathroom, up to the kitchen table. Dib had already seated himself in front of a plate of pizza.

"Hey Zim, I was about to start…without… you…" Dib swallowed a little. "Hey, Zim. You're back. You're, uh, early." Dib's eyes darted to the side, away from the seething alien. "I was going to give you an update next week."

"How long has it been?" Zim's voice was low and dangerous.

"What do you mean?" Dib forced a smile. "It's just been a few months since the last time I made you mad."

"LIAR!" Zim pointed an accusing claw at him. "Does not the calendar you gave to Zim tell the right year?"

Dib's expression froze. "Um…"

"If the calendar you gave to Zim tells the correct year, then you have not angered Zim in ten years. Although how you managed that is a miracle in and of itself, Zim demands to know why. And Zim demands to know other things as well."

"Other things?" Dib gulped. "Like… what kind of food I've been giving you?"

Marching over, Zim grabbed Dib's shirt, yanking him down to eye level. "Zim is not stupid, EARTH WORM. The last time I saw you you had gray in your hair."

"Oh, that," Dib grinned. "I dyed it."

"And you had trouble bending over, like you did when you just took the pizza out."

"Um, I had surgery."

"You looked older, Dib."

"Plastic surgery does wonders for—"

"You WERE older, DIB!"

Dib fell silent.

"I'm not stupid Dib!" Zim shouted, banging a fist on the table, and jerking on Dib's shirt with the other. "Tell me what's going on!"

Dib's shoulders slumped, and his entire face drooped as well. Zim paused for a moment.

"You really want to know, Zim?" He whispered. "I don't want you to know. I want you to just keep living like this. Please don't make me tell you."

Zim stared at Dib, shaken. "Tell Zim. Tell Zim NOW."

Silently, Dib stood, and took Zim's hand in his own. Zim started a little. He had vague impressions that Dib often did this for him when he wasn't himself, but he'd never dared do so to his conscious face. But something in the defeated manner of Dib's walk kept him from protesting.

Dib took him downstairs, where he'd often said his father used to work. Shivering, Zim drew a little closer to Dib in spite of himself. I'm glad that horrible man is gone.

Dib swung open the door. All around were machines whirring, and lights flashing, and electricity thrumming. Several bits of machinery and scattered robotic bits littered the floor. An arm there, a leg there. Half a head in the corner. But it was the center of the room that caught Zim's attention.

In the center of the room was a white hospital bed. A large machine protruded from the ceiling, reaching down to cover the eyes of the form in the bed. A thin, tired voice issued from the bed, coming from the mouth of Dib beside him at the same time. "Computer, disengage."

Dib released Zim's hand, and his head tilted slightly to the side, eyes dimming. Frightened, Zim backed away, snarling, "What is this?"

"It's all I could do, Zim."

Zim whirled back to the bed, facing the owner of the thin voice. A pair of tired brown eyes met his, and a regretful smile crossed over a pale, wrinkled face. A gray scythe of hair drooped back over his shoulders, and a rather lengthy gray beard covered most of his chest.

It was Dib. But not Dib. How did this happen?

Dib's eyes lowered. "I'm sorry, Zim. I didn't want you to know."

Zim's mouth opened and closed. "Kn-know? You didn't think it was important that Zim know that you got old? That you're getting even older? You didn't think that maybe there was something Zim could figure out? No, instead you build this…" He glanced contemptuously at the younger version of Dib. "This thing! This robot! How dare you!"

Dib stared at him sadly. "I had to, Zim. You wouldn't understand in your other state, and you know it. I built this robot so it would learn from my personality, copy my memories, and treat you like I would, for as long as you live. It's not so bad, I control it, and it learns really fast."

Zim froze. "Dib… you control that thing?"

Dib grimaced, realizing his slip up.

"Dib," Zim's voice was low, but not angry. "How long have you been down here, controlling that thing?"

"Zim, don't ask. Please, it's been fine, I see everything, it's not like I'm missing any—"

"How long?!"

Dib paused, then said softly, "Ten years. The last time I made you mad."

Zim's knees buckled. He hadn't thought anything could hurt as badly as losing his identity, but he had been mistaken. He saw it all now. Dib, realizing he was aging fast, much faster than the Irken ever would. Dib, slaving away, spending months, years building the perfect replica of himself, then locking himself away in a basement so he could continue living to protect Zim, even after he had died. And he had intended to die down there, alone, leaving Zim the closest thing he could ever give of himself.

"Zim, don't," Dib's voice cracked. "Please, I can't get down there to hug you."

Zim sucked in a breath, pushing himself to his feet. He walked toward the bed.

"Zim, what are you doing?"

Zim reached out, grabbing the edge of the thick blanket draped over Dib's form.

Dib's eyes widened. "Zim don't, please!"

Ripping it back, Zim stared down at Dib. His muscles had atrophied so much from lying in bed, his body had shrunk back to the size of a child's. His ribs stuck out in stark relief from the rest of his body, and every joint was visible under nearly translucent, wrinkled skin. Zim glanced up at the machine over Dib's head, and noted a series of wires leading from them to Dib. Reaching over, he took Dib's head, and very gently turned it.

There, at the back of his neck, were a series of wires, piercing the skin and connecting with the base of the brain.

Dib's eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to block out the shame of being discovered. "I… I figured I could use what Purple did to remote control the robot. It was really just like being there, I didn't miss anything, I swear, I was there the whole time."

Zim turned Dib's head back, his eyes shining in the flickering lights. "Dib. Why? You never owed Zim this much. This is more…"

Dib looked up at Zim, as if the alien were stupid. "Why do you think, idiot? You're more family than anything I ever had."

Zim started. "But Gaz—"

"She's been gone for decades, Zim. I built a low level replica of her too. It just didn't have the ability to learn from her like mine did from me."

She never leaves the couch.

Dib lifted a hand shakily, and Zim caught it in his.

"Zim, you were there for me. Even when you hated me. You were my friend, and then you were my brother." Water trickled from Dib's eyes. "And there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."

To his shock, Zim felt goop running from his eyes, as the pain in his spooch sharpened. "I can't leave you down here."

"You have to, Zim. You know you can't take me up there. Once you slipped back, there'd be too many questions, and it would just hurt you to watch me die."

Zim gritted his teeth, swiping his hand across his eyes. "There has to be something."

Dib's eyes wandered to the robot, then back to Zim. "Zim. The machine I'm hooked to… it's not just controlling the robot." He took a deep breath. "It's also my life support."

"No."

"The robot has absorbed enough of my personality and memories to function on its own."

"No!"

"All you need to do is cut the wires-"

"NO!" Zim shrieked. "I'm not killing you!"

Dib looked at Zim sadly. "Zim," He said quietly, "I'm tired. And I'm not going to have the child-version of you watch me gasp out a few more years."

"There has to be something else!" Zim groaned, feeling like his spooch was full of broken glass. But even as he said it, he knew there wasn't. And he knew Dib was right.

Dib brought up his other hand to cover Zim's. "Zim, I'm gonna be with you. You know I will be. Just not like this."

The goop just kept coming out of his eyes, he couldn't make it stop.

Dib turned his head. "Computer, initiate final phase."

The robot Dib raised its head, the eyes flickering. It blinked a few times, looking a little confused.

Zim choked, reaching behind Dib's head to where the wires were and grasping them in shaking claws.

Dib smiled gently. "I'll see you, Zim. Thank you for being my brother."

With a sob, Zim wrenched the wires free from Dib's neck. Dib gasped at the pain for a moment, then relaxed. His eyes lost their focus, and his body went limp.

Zim stared down for a moment, then gently reached over and closed Dib's eyes. Quietly, he whispered, "I will never be angry again."

With that, he turned inward, reaching for the void between selves, the place he always fought to escape, he now welcomed. He had had his time. It was up to his other self now, and from now on.

…

Zim shook his head, wincing. Dib was going to look sad now, he knew it. Dib always looked sad after he fell asleep. He looked up. Where was he? There was somebody lying in a bed. He looked old. Really old.

Before he could get a good look at him, strong arms picked him up, and turned him around. It was Dib, and he was smiling.

"Hey Zim, what are you doing down here? I told you this place is off limits."

"Sorry Dib, I think I sleepwalked." He grinned, relieved to see Dib smiling.

"Yeah you did, but you're back now. Hungry? The pizza's getting cold."

"Real hungry!" Zim chirped. "Can we do puzzles after?"

"As many as you want."

"Ok Dib! Put me down, I wanna race you upstairs!"

"You know I have longer legs."

"Yeah, but you're nice an' let me win all the time."

"True. Race you upstairs."

"Ok Dib!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all can thank Nyan. Cat. And. Bacon. Soap for this epilogue. (S)he asked what would happen to Zim once Dib died, since Zim would outlive him by hundreds of years. I kind of shrugged it off, figuring Dib would figure something out. "But what?" My brain nagged at me. And nagged. And nagged. Until finally this chapter hit me. This is THE LAST one in this story.

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I thank Archiveofourown for letting me aboard. If someone reads this and has seen this elsewhere, I am the same Hecallsmehischild from Fanfiction.net, posting my story here as well because I was told about this place, and thought it looked interesting. Please forgive any formatting errors as I get used to this new site...
> 
> Also, "Character Death" does not happen until the final chapter, chapter 20, and if you would prefer to read it without said Character death, stop at the end of Chapter 19. It will not impact the story too much, as chapter 20 was an epilogue I added on later.


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